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Queen Of Chaos
- Thread starter Loxuru
- Start date
Oh, Siss, you are bad!!!
LittleSiss
Sorceress
What show was it ... at the end ... the kid said, I MADE THAT!
There you go, Mc Cloud!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
I fear we all have to ponder, to simplify, to summarise, finally to wonder WTF?
No chance to skim-read either, important facts appear from all directions.
It does seem strange that Louisa/Aurore is interested in a political revolution just as a war may be coming; not good timing for her.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 – episode 21
“Hello, Dear!”
“Judith?”
Judith, our English friend, was the oldest of us. And the smallest one. She was a little red hair, turning a little bit chubby as she approached the age of fifty. Like the first moment I had met her, years ago, on my arrival in Chaos, she was always very kind and helpful. Always happy and smiling (exposing her somewhat pronounced frontal teeth) to see me. Even the international political crisis did not seem to have affected her good mood.
"To what extent are you actually aware of what is happening in your homeland?" Judith asked at one point.
"What do you mean? In that country, as you mention, I haven't been for almost 20 years."
And frankly, it had largely stopped to interest me since some time.
"France is in trouble!"
"What do you mean?"
"The country is in a severe economic crisis. As is the whole of Europe. Have you noticed that there are fewer tourists around here? "
"No, not really! Except for the last days."
"Yet it is! And France has very much suffered of it, because King Edmund of England has gradually abolished French trade privileges in his country. France has lost a lot of market share there. And there are domestic troubles too. France, for the first time in a long time, must import food."
"Why is that?"
"They say that the climate is changing. In any case, in recent years it has been too wet and too cold in the summer in France itself, and too dry and too hot in Spain. Result! Food prices in France have exploded!"
"And if the food price is high, then the people growls!"
"Right!"
"And if the people growls, then unrest starts spreading!"
"Indeed!"
"And what is spreading there?"
"Everything. There is demand for political reform.”
"And what does King Jacques?"
"The same as the Emperor! Repression! The only thing he can do to keep the nobility as an ally. He has taken profit from the murder of his Foreign Minister, a Spaniard as you know, to eradicate what is called subversive groups. That has already led to a tragedy."
"What?"
"Shortly before the assassination in Belgrade, there has been a meeting of the representatives of the Third Estate, in the velodrome in Paris. It must have been a very tumultuous meeting. There has been some kind of an internal putsch in the Third Estate. The traditional leaders of the Third Estate have been put aside by representatives of the middle class and the common people, as far as I have understood."
"I can imagine! The Third Estate was already very long in the hands of the wealthier bourgeoisie. They bought their power and often made deals with the other estates, in such a way that they personally benefitted from it."
"The new leaders of the Third Estate demanded a personal roll-call vote in the Estates-General, instead of en bloc by estate. They have vowed to fight together for that reform. Well! After the attack in Belgrade all those new leaders of the Third Estate were arrested for treason. They were imprisoned in the Bastille. And then the price of bread went up again, and the people have come on the street in Paris, and they have tried to storm the Bastille to liberate the political prisoners!"
"Really!?"
"Armed forces have then opened fire on the crowds. Officially there would have been ten deaths, but some sources mention dozens of deaths and hundreds of injuries! And there have been hundreds of arrests, or people who have disappeared!"
"Apparently, it is time that I go back some more interest to my country. When did that happen?"
"Last month, in July!"
"And what's happened since then?"
"Martial law has been declared. France has calmed down since then. The King tries to keep the country together, by stating that the troubles were organized by the Holy Roman Empire! So, there is some attempt to revive nationalist feelings. Meanwhile, the food prices are a little lower. But not because there has been a good harvest, but because France has arranged cheap food purchases from Russia.”
“From Russia?”
“Russia sells grain surpluses to France! The Franco-Iberian Union is fed through the Kattegat now!"
I went to work! The situation was apparently very exceptional. There were plumes of black smoke above the city. Apparently, the previous night, riots had broken out among the population, in the areas outside the Saint George’s Gate. When I approached the Governor’s Palace, plumes of smoke also emerged from the chimneys. Strange, because those were rather for ornamental means and they were only occasionally used in the rare coldest periods of the year.
I immediately understood what was going on. The archives were being destroyed. They were just thrown in the fireplaces and burned. Fortunately, the documents were first scanned and filed electronically. The data carriers would then kept in a safe place, because they would occupy no more place than a shoe box. It was hectic work. I had to scan documents the entire day and make back-ups. It was hard work, and heavy, because of the heat of the fire places where the paper archives were burned in.
Milos was still not around and no one knew what happened to him. From my work place I barely had the time to go watch ‘my mountain’ in the distance. I occasionally noticed it was hidden behind the smoke clouds over the Saint Georges Gate Quarter (it was said luckily most of the smoke came from burning tires, used as barricades). But the smoke did not come only from just outside the city walls. Also in the distance, presumably above the coastal village at the foot of the mountain, there was apparently black smoke.
During the day we heard that the international tension was suddenly increasing. The Emperor had sent to Budapest an ultimatum, in which it within five days 'a final answer' was expected on his memorandum after the attack in Belgrade. The Holy Roman Empire gained the support from the Kings of Poland and of Naples-Sicily. In response, Hungary brought its army in a state of alert, called up the reserves on and sent troops to its borders with the Empire.
When our job was finally over, it was already dark. The data carriers would be distributed among the staff, to be contained at a secret place, but the others were at last allowed to go home. At my studio I found a worried Smyrna. She told that, because of the turmoil, all the city gates were closed. We went to eat something quickly. Smyrna explained that she had heard that the sultan had accused the governors of Chaos that they had allowed that violence was used against the Muslim population on the island. He had also accused them of attempts to purge the island from Muslims, under pressure from the Greeks and 'the Pope'. The sultan had threatened to intervene if the Muslim population on Chaos would be any longer the victim of persecution and ethnic cleansing. The Governor had reacted with the message that the riots was the work of 'agents and professional rioters' acting on behalf of the Sultan. Smyrna feared an invasion by the Ottomans.
“You know how it is with the Ottomans! If they are in a nice mood, they drown you, if they are normal, they behead you with a pocket knife, and if they are cruel, the crucify you!”
The rest of the night, Smyrna slept with me. I had agreed to help her. The answer to the question why I did it, I kept for myself. But I knew one thing. Once, my peaceful, careless life had been wiped out in a few seconds by a tremor of nature. Since then I have been used for all kinds of causes. I have been forcibly separated from my children. One of them, assuming that my suspicion is correct about Lieutenant d’Artois, I once have left behind in Cour-Cheverny, not knowing that I would never see him and his brother again. Now they made someone of him I would never have wanted. Yes, maybe it would have been different without that terrible earthquake. Maybe I would have had a normal undisturbed civil life in France. But now my life has gone as it is, and I know one thing. If I went for an idea, then it would be mine now! I wanted to go for a world in which the Royal arbitrariness is abolished. A world where no one has to hide half a life time on an island far away from home, just to be not yet safe from harm!
For the moment, I would give Smyrna some help for her Hellenic Dawn activities. I hoped at least to gain some control over them.
When we woke up, there was a knock on the door. It was Olga. She had frightening news. There were two Russian warships in the port, for a so-called friendly visit. During the night they had crossed the Straits. But there were no reports of something more serious, apart from the fact that the port was closed.
I had to go to my work. Smyrna would stay with Olga, who was about to get a nervous breakdown. Along the way I figured that Pavlos had left already a week ago to Brol. Since, I had heard nothing from him. I was worried, but it felt like I was too busy to miss him. Other times I would have gradually become restless after a week already, but not now.
In the Government Palace, a surprise awaited us there again. It would not be a normal working day. Our offices were occupied by French soldiers. According to the treaties on the governance of the island, they had no right to intervene here. The guard of the Palace was the exclusive competence of the Governance. The soldiers wanted to interrogate us, specifically about the destroyed documents and about what had happened with the information on it. Who had taken the data carriers? Where were they?
The commander of the operation happened to be Lieutenant d'Artois. It became an acrid confrontation. The burning of the archives was clearly not appreciated by the French military. I was wondering why?
Lieutenant d’Artois immediately recognized me. He took me apart under guard, while he and his men continued the search. He put a sergeant on me to interrogate me, but I bluntly refused to answer. So, Lieutenant d’Artois took over himself. Accompanied by an army attorney, he stepped to me with the most intimidating look one could imagine.
“Alors, Madame!? You refuse to cooperate!?”
Whoever he would be, I did not like his arrogant attitude (chin up, head inclined hands on his waist, as if I were a naughty girl), so I even more got determined to resist. I reminded him, and the attorney, that they had authority neither in the Palace nor on the civil administration of the island.
“This is my authority!” the lieutenant said, while he pointed to the gun in a holster on his hip.
“Now who do you think you are, Lieutenant d’Artois!? Do you know whom you are talking to!?”
“I am asking the questions here! We are in charge of the security of this island and we expect cooperation from the side of its inhabitants and particularly from its administration! You are French, I heard, Madame?”
“Yes, lieutenant!”
“Can I see your passport, s’il vous plait?”
I gave him my passport, hoping he would not notice it was forged.
“A-ha! Louisà Schneidère!” (he pronounced my name that French way), “now I understand why you are so little cooperative with the French authorities!”
“Pardon, lieutenant?”
“Born in Saverne! Alsacienne donc! German name! What brought you to this island, Madame?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because, Madame, I suspect you to be in favour to the Alsacian separatist movement!”
“What do you mean, Lieutenant?”
“This island is a hiding place for those who have opposed their home government all over Europe! Everybody knows people fleeing political persecution get refuge here! Give me one other reason why an Alsacienne would end up living here, other than for rebellion and sedition against the King of France!?”
“Euh.. maybe… the good weather here, all year long?”
“Non, Madame, I am convinced you ended up here because you have betrayed your king! The King of France!” (how he hit the nail!).
“And you, Lieutenant? Why are you here? You are Robert d’Artois, born May 16th 1993 in Rambouillet right?. You have a younger brother named Enguerrand, born August 6th 1994. You descend from a Capet line going back to Louis VIII. Why are you stationed here, in an ordinary infantry regiment, and not in an élite guard unit? I tell you why : because the Artois, your family, have once attempted to overthrow the King of France, some twenty years ago! So, do not accuse me of treason, right, Lieutenant!?”
He was totally overwhelmed by my reaction! Completely! His mouth went open, closed, a few times. He did not know what to say.
“Madame…!”
“You are Robert d’Artois, born in Rambouillet on May 16th 1993, n’est-ce pas?”
“Madame, listen! In case I would be prisoner of war, I only am entitled to reveal my name, rank and number! Anything else, including my place and date of birth, I consider as a military secret! And I will neither reveal to you my number because I am neither your prisoner and nor are you entitled to ask me about it!”
“So!? I am right, Lieutenant, about your identity!”
“Have you been spying on me!? Watch your step!”
“Is it so difficult to simply answer my question!?”
“Madame! I am asking questions here! Stop obstructing our work!”
He was clearly angered, and I expected he would not leave it like that. But he took a deep breath, gave my passport back and let me go.
“We see each other sooner or later, you bloody Alsacian traitor!!”.
“I’ll bet we do, Robert d’Artois!”
On my studio I burst into tears. Then I pulled out a bottle of wine and drank it out completely. It was him! Robert! Without a doubt! His response to my challenge was too clear. If I had happened to be wrong, he would just have called me crazy and he had continued his interrogation! Without doubt! There I was! After nearly twenty years in exile I meet my oldest son. And in his eyes, I am a suspect, a traitor! He is up to arrest me! And in the meantime I must prevent that the Hellenic Dawn would bomb his barracks, without betraying one of my best friends!
Olga came in late in the evening. This time I really needed her support.
(to be continued)
“Hello, Dear!”
“Judith?”
Judith, our English friend, was the oldest of us. And the smallest one. She was a little red hair, turning a little bit chubby as she approached the age of fifty. Like the first moment I had met her, years ago, on my arrival in Chaos, she was always very kind and helpful. Always happy and smiling (exposing her somewhat pronounced frontal teeth) to see me. Even the international political crisis did not seem to have affected her good mood.
"To what extent are you actually aware of what is happening in your homeland?" Judith asked at one point.
"What do you mean? In that country, as you mention, I haven't been for almost 20 years."
And frankly, it had largely stopped to interest me since some time.
"France is in trouble!"
"What do you mean?"
"The country is in a severe economic crisis. As is the whole of Europe. Have you noticed that there are fewer tourists around here? "
"No, not really! Except for the last days."
"Yet it is! And France has very much suffered of it, because King Edmund of England has gradually abolished French trade privileges in his country. France has lost a lot of market share there. And there are domestic troubles too. France, for the first time in a long time, must import food."
"Why is that?"
"They say that the climate is changing. In any case, in recent years it has been too wet and too cold in the summer in France itself, and too dry and too hot in Spain. Result! Food prices in France have exploded!"
"And if the food price is high, then the people growls!"
"Right!"
"And if the people growls, then unrest starts spreading!"
"Indeed!"
"And what is spreading there?"
"Everything. There is demand for political reform.”
"And what does King Jacques?"
"The same as the Emperor! Repression! The only thing he can do to keep the nobility as an ally. He has taken profit from the murder of his Foreign Minister, a Spaniard as you know, to eradicate what is called subversive groups. That has already led to a tragedy."
"What?"
"Shortly before the assassination in Belgrade, there has been a meeting of the representatives of the Third Estate, in the velodrome in Paris. It must have been a very tumultuous meeting. There has been some kind of an internal putsch in the Third Estate. The traditional leaders of the Third Estate have been put aside by representatives of the middle class and the common people, as far as I have understood."
"I can imagine! The Third Estate was already very long in the hands of the wealthier bourgeoisie. They bought their power and often made deals with the other estates, in such a way that they personally benefitted from it."
"The new leaders of the Third Estate demanded a personal roll-call vote in the Estates-General, instead of en bloc by estate. They have vowed to fight together for that reform. Well! After the attack in Belgrade all those new leaders of the Third Estate were arrested for treason. They were imprisoned in the Bastille. And then the price of bread went up again, and the people have come on the street in Paris, and they have tried to storm the Bastille to liberate the political prisoners!"
"Really!?"
"Armed forces have then opened fire on the crowds. Officially there would have been ten deaths, but some sources mention dozens of deaths and hundreds of injuries! And there have been hundreds of arrests, or people who have disappeared!"
"Apparently, it is time that I go back some more interest to my country. When did that happen?"
"Last month, in July!"
"And what's happened since then?"
"Martial law has been declared. France has calmed down since then. The King tries to keep the country together, by stating that the troubles were organized by the Holy Roman Empire! So, there is some attempt to revive nationalist feelings. Meanwhile, the food prices are a little lower. But not because there has been a good harvest, but because France has arranged cheap food purchases from Russia.”
“From Russia?”
“Russia sells grain surpluses to France! The Franco-Iberian Union is fed through the Kattegat now!"
I went to work! The situation was apparently very exceptional. There were plumes of black smoke above the city. Apparently, the previous night, riots had broken out among the population, in the areas outside the Saint George’s Gate. When I approached the Governor’s Palace, plumes of smoke also emerged from the chimneys. Strange, because those were rather for ornamental means and they were only occasionally used in the rare coldest periods of the year.
I immediately understood what was going on. The archives were being destroyed. They were just thrown in the fireplaces and burned. Fortunately, the documents were first scanned and filed electronically. The data carriers would then kept in a safe place, because they would occupy no more place than a shoe box. It was hectic work. I had to scan documents the entire day and make back-ups. It was hard work, and heavy, because of the heat of the fire places where the paper archives were burned in.
Milos was still not around and no one knew what happened to him. From my work place I barely had the time to go watch ‘my mountain’ in the distance. I occasionally noticed it was hidden behind the smoke clouds over the Saint Georges Gate Quarter (it was said luckily most of the smoke came from burning tires, used as barricades). But the smoke did not come only from just outside the city walls. Also in the distance, presumably above the coastal village at the foot of the mountain, there was apparently black smoke.
During the day we heard that the international tension was suddenly increasing. The Emperor had sent to Budapest an ultimatum, in which it within five days 'a final answer' was expected on his memorandum after the attack in Belgrade. The Holy Roman Empire gained the support from the Kings of Poland and of Naples-Sicily. In response, Hungary brought its army in a state of alert, called up the reserves on and sent troops to its borders with the Empire.
When our job was finally over, it was already dark. The data carriers would be distributed among the staff, to be contained at a secret place, but the others were at last allowed to go home. At my studio I found a worried Smyrna. She told that, because of the turmoil, all the city gates were closed. We went to eat something quickly. Smyrna explained that she had heard that the sultan had accused the governors of Chaos that they had allowed that violence was used against the Muslim population on the island. He had also accused them of attempts to purge the island from Muslims, under pressure from the Greeks and 'the Pope'. The sultan had threatened to intervene if the Muslim population on Chaos would be any longer the victim of persecution and ethnic cleansing. The Governor had reacted with the message that the riots was the work of 'agents and professional rioters' acting on behalf of the Sultan. Smyrna feared an invasion by the Ottomans.
“You know how it is with the Ottomans! If they are in a nice mood, they drown you, if they are normal, they behead you with a pocket knife, and if they are cruel, the crucify you!”
The rest of the night, Smyrna slept with me. I had agreed to help her. The answer to the question why I did it, I kept for myself. But I knew one thing. Once, my peaceful, careless life had been wiped out in a few seconds by a tremor of nature. Since then I have been used for all kinds of causes. I have been forcibly separated from my children. One of them, assuming that my suspicion is correct about Lieutenant d’Artois, I once have left behind in Cour-Cheverny, not knowing that I would never see him and his brother again. Now they made someone of him I would never have wanted. Yes, maybe it would have been different without that terrible earthquake. Maybe I would have had a normal undisturbed civil life in France. But now my life has gone as it is, and I know one thing. If I went for an idea, then it would be mine now! I wanted to go for a world in which the Royal arbitrariness is abolished. A world where no one has to hide half a life time on an island far away from home, just to be not yet safe from harm!
For the moment, I would give Smyrna some help for her Hellenic Dawn activities. I hoped at least to gain some control over them.
When we woke up, there was a knock on the door. It was Olga. She had frightening news. There were two Russian warships in the port, for a so-called friendly visit. During the night they had crossed the Straits. But there were no reports of something more serious, apart from the fact that the port was closed.
I had to go to my work. Smyrna would stay with Olga, who was about to get a nervous breakdown. Along the way I figured that Pavlos had left already a week ago to Brol. Since, I had heard nothing from him. I was worried, but it felt like I was too busy to miss him. Other times I would have gradually become restless after a week already, but not now.
In the Government Palace, a surprise awaited us there again. It would not be a normal working day. Our offices were occupied by French soldiers. According to the treaties on the governance of the island, they had no right to intervene here. The guard of the Palace was the exclusive competence of the Governance. The soldiers wanted to interrogate us, specifically about the destroyed documents and about what had happened with the information on it. Who had taken the data carriers? Where were they?
The commander of the operation happened to be Lieutenant d'Artois. It became an acrid confrontation. The burning of the archives was clearly not appreciated by the French military. I was wondering why?
Lieutenant d’Artois immediately recognized me. He took me apart under guard, while he and his men continued the search. He put a sergeant on me to interrogate me, but I bluntly refused to answer. So, Lieutenant d’Artois took over himself. Accompanied by an army attorney, he stepped to me with the most intimidating look one could imagine.
“Alors, Madame!? You refuse to cooperate!?”
Whoever he would be, I did not like his arrogant attitude (chin up, head inclined hands on his waist, as if I were a naughty girl), so I even more got determined to resist. I reminded him, and the attorney, that they had authority neither in the Palace nor on the civil administration of the island.
“This is my authority!” the lieutenant said, while he pointed to the gun in a holster on his hip.
“Now who do you think you are, Lieutenant d’Artois!? Do you know whom you are talking to!?”
“I am asking the questions here! We are in charge of the security of this island and we expect cooperation from the side of its inhabitants and particularly from its administration! You are French, I heard, Madame?”
“Yes, lieutenant!”
“Can I see your passport, s’il vous plait?”
I gave him my passport, hoping he would not notice it was forged.
“A-ha! Louisà Schneidère!” (he pronounced my name that French way), “now I understand why you are so little cooperative with the French authorities!”
“Pardon, lieutenant?”
“Born in Saverne! Alsacienne donc! German name! What brought you to this island, Madame?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because, Madame, I suspect you to be in favour to the Alsacian separatist movement!”
“What do you mean, Lieutenant?”
“This island is a hiding place for those who have opposed their home government all over Europe! Everybody knows people fleeing political persecution get refuge here! Give me one other reason why an Alsacienne would end up living here, other than for rebellion and sedition against the King of France!?”
“Euh.. maybe… the good weather here, all year long?”
“Non, Madame, I am convinced you ended up here because you have betrayed your king! The King of France!” (how he hit the nail!).
“And you, Lieutenant? Why are you here? You are Robert d’Artois, born May 16th 1993 in Rambouillet right?. You have a younger brother named Enguerrand, born August 6th 1994. You descend from a Capet line going back to Louis VIII. Why are you stationed here, in an ordinary infantry regiment, and not in an élite guard unit? I tell you why : because the Artois, your family, have once attempted to overthrow the King of France, some twenty years ago! So, do not accuse me of treason, right, Lieutenant!?”
He was totally overwhelmed by my reaction! Completely! His mouth went open, closed, a few times. He did not know what to say.
“Madame…!”
“You are Robert d’Artois, born in Rambouillet on May 16th 1993, n’est-ce pas?”
“Madame, listen! In case I would be prisoner of war, I only am entitled to reveal my name, rank and number! Anything else, including my place and date of birth, I consider as a military secret! And I will neither reveal to you my number because I am neither your prisoner and nor are you entitled to ask me about it!”
“So!? I am right, Lieutenant, about your identity!”
“Have you been spying on me!? Watch your step!”
“Is it so difficult to simply answer my question!?”
“Madame! I am asking questions here! Stop obstructing our work!”
He was clearly angered, and I expected he would not leave it like that. But he took a deep breath, gave my passport back and let me go.
“We see each other sooner or later, you bloody Alsacian traitor!!”.
“I’ll bet we do, Robert d’Artois!”
On my studio I burst into tears. Then I pulled out a bottle of wine and drank it out completely. It was him! Robert! Without a doubt! His response to my challenge was too clear. If I had happened to be wrong, he would just have called me crazy and he had continued his interrogation! Without doubt! There I was! After nearly twenty years in exile I meet my oldest son. And in his eyes, I am a suspect, a traitor! He is up to arrest me! And in the meantime I must prevent that the Hellenic Dawn would bomb his barracks, without betraying one of my best friends!
Olga came in late in the evening. This time I really needed her support.
(to be continued)
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 – episode 22
The next day, all residential foreigners had to report immediately to the military headquarters for registration. And immediately meant between 14 and 18 hours the same day. Those unregistered, risked to be locked up.
At the notary’s office, potential buyers were staying away! The consequences of an international crisis. I had started wondering whether I would not have to go doing dishes again. At least, if there would still show up tourists for which there would be dishes to be done. Air traffic was still down. The port of Chaos was closed until further notice. The ferries were therefore forced to dock at the only other port on the island, that of Kathalos. That crisis should not take too long, because I had not so much excess savings. And then my fears became true. The notary knocked at my door to tell me, with much regret in the heart, that for the time being he could no longer use my services. The real estate market had collapsed. He promised that he would contact me when he could do business again, because he had always been very satisfied of my work. Of course, I understood him perfectly, but I now had to worry about my financial future. When he had left, I remembered I had not brought back ‘l’Esprit des Lois’ yet.
I had my weekly day of. To pass the time I did something which I had never thought that I ever would. I went out on behalf of an underground organization. I kept an eye on the French barracks. As discrete as possible, of course, because they knew me there. Smyrna had asked me to do. She wanted to know if there were other than French soldiers around. I had agreed on her demand, also to keep an eye on Lieutenant d'Artois, as far as possible. I also wanted to keep an eye on Smyrna's Hellenic Dawn pals, or on any other kind of fanatic. Lieutenant d'Artois might have been at odds with me, there were higher things at stake as far as it concerned me. And I had nothing else to do.
The indicated place was to the square at the old Ottoman barracks, where the French troops had now their headquarters. I tried to be as invisible as possible, keeping an eye on everything. But nothing happened. In the meantime I had to think ...
Judith, had informed me about what had happened the last days in France. It seemed there were hectic things going on. King Jacques’ position was under fire. Hardline politicians had blamed him for his careful reaction on the assassination in Belgrade. They also blamed him for having been too lenient for the opposition within the Third Estate. If the king had acted more firmly, there would never have been an oath in the velodrome, or riots in Paris. King Jacques was strongly criticized for having allowed that the events had gone too far! I found it strange that the French detachment on Chaos just did business as usual, as there was no political crisis going on in their country. Occasionally a patrol left the barracks, to return an hour later or so. Furthermore, there was little movement. There was definitely no coming or going of soldiers from another army. The logic of Smyrna was, that with such a rebellion in the home country, troops would be recalled from all overseas garrisons, and that they would be replaced by their allies here. But probably, Paris considered the crisis around Chaos severe enough to maintain troops at strength here. Meanwhile, Lieutenant d'Artois himself was nowhere around.
That evening I reported to Smyrna. I told her that there had been nothing particular. But on her face I could see that there was something. Finally she told me she had heard the rumor, and she pressed on my heart that it was a rumor, that fifteen Greeks had been crucified publically in Brol , for espionage. There would also have been people from Chaos among them. She had not more details, and she recalled that it was only a rumor. But it was obviously enough for me to worry about Pavlos, from whom I had heard nothing in about ten days.
I went again on the streets. I was gradually becoming distraught. Distraught by the uncertainty, about Pavlos, about that Lieutenant d'Artois. About my work. All the frustrations met, fed by that half bottle of ouzo with which I had tried to forget the problems. I was wandering through the narrow streets of Chaos city, to eventually get out of where I had been standing all day: in front of the French headquarters. I was hoping to meet Lieutenant d'Artois. I was hoping that Hellenic Dawn had nothing planned. I did not trust them. If Smyrna had put me there on lookout, did it mean that somehow they were up to something? I could not betray Smyrna, but to all others of that organization, I had neither accountability nor loyalty. It had in no time become an obsession: to prevent that something would happen to Lieutenant d’Artois.
I had brought something with me. A handbag. The one I had bought in Laibach. It costed as much as two months of income for an Illyrian worker, remember? In that handbag was still the revolver, Lisa Kellerman, had given me. In the confusion after the failed assassination, and my hurried fleeing to Chaos, no one had paid attention to it. I had maintained it well all the time, as I had learned in Hungary, and I had taken my precautions to avoid it would get stuck when I would need it!
I kept hidden. It was dark now, but there were much less people on the street as usual, so I risked to be too conspicuous . How long I had been there? One hour? Two hours? The soft evening air did well. These were hot days, and on my studio it would probably have been too muggy. Now I could recover in the open air, after all that drinking. My head was clear enough, at least, to notice that I was not alone. Some hundred and fifty feet away, two figures had been standing for a long time at the same place. I knew enough to be convinced that they also were on lookout. I had no idea who they were or what they were planning, but it seemed to me very suspicious.
Suddenly something moved at the gate of the barracks. Three soldiers appeared. They stood talking to each other. Under the light above the entrance I saw that one of them was Lieutenant d'Artois. I looked again and noticed then that their appearance had also attracted the attention of the suspicious figures over there. They had suddenly taken cover. The Lieutenant and another soldier came out while talking, into my direction, and into that of the two figures.
I had to do something. Just one hundred and fifty feet, and they would kill him. For sure! I had to stop it! But how? What could I lose? My freedom? I had already exposed myself to him. With what I had told him, he had basically enough to check my true identity. He already knew that I had been in trouble in France. But I still was free, despite the fact that the French troops were in control.
This was my chance! I could save his life! Then he would no longer be able to ignore me! As he approached, I hid me as good as possible in the alley where I stood. Carefully I grabbed the gun from Laibach from my bag and I cocked it. The cocking seemed to make a hell of a noise, even muffled by the handbag, but luckily no one had noticed it. It was my plan to approach as close as possible on those two soldiers, and, weapon ready, to be faster than those other guys.
I had the weapon concealed in my right hand, and I wanted to leave the alley. Then, from the dark of the alley, someone grabbed my right wrist!
"Aurore! Ne faites pas de bêtises!" said a male voice. With a cry I jerked my hand. As I tried to run out of the alley, a heavy body blocked my way. I felt his hands were trying to grab me, but I could get away and ran into the alley, without looking back.
"Aurore! Arrêtez!" the mysterious man shouted.
"Qu’est ce qui se passe là-bas!?" I heard behind me yet. It was the voice of Lieutenant d’Artois. The incident had attracted the attention of the French soldiers. I didn't look behind and kept running. I heard steps running behind me, but I was very familiar with the maze of alleys in the old town and I soon noticed I was not followed anymore.
Out of breath I reached my studio. Still trembling from the excitement I went inside, took off my clothes and took a shower. This had been a close one! The man who had stopped me, must certainly have thought that I was planning to shoot those two soldiers. If I had been caught that way, appearance would have been against me! Even if I was the one who had possibly avoided an assassination attempt. That was indeed the good news. But who was that man who had intervened? Was he there incidentally, or had he surveyed me? And for how long? And had spoken French with me.
I could not sleep all night. I feared any moment the police or the army would come to arrest me. The next morning, I woke up soon and I went back to the place of last evening. But nothing seemed to have happened there.
I returned to my studio, looking around carefully.
I could not get the incident out of my head.
Particularly because that man had called me ‘Aurore’!
Someone on this island knew my real identity!
(to be continued)
The next day, all residential foreigners had to report immediately to the military headquarters for registration. And immediately meant between 14 and 18 hours the same day. Those unregistered, risked to be locked up.
At the notary’s office, potential buyers were staying away! The consequences of an international crisis. I had started wondering whether I would not have to go doing dishes again. At least, if there would still show up tourists for which there would be dishes to be done. Air traffic was still down. The port of Chaos was closed until further notice. The ferries were therefore forced to dock at the only other port on the island, that of Kathalos. That crisis should not take too long, because I had not so much excess savings. And then my fears became true. The notary knocked at my door to tell me, with much regret in the heart, that for the time being he could no longer use my services. The real estate market had collapsed. He promised that he would contact me when he could do business again, because he had always been very satisfied of my work. Of course, I understood him perfectly, but I now had to worry about my financial future. When he had left, I remembered I had not brought back ‘l’Esprit des Lois’ yet.
I had my weekly day of. To pass the time I did something which I had never thought that I ever would. I went out on behalf of an underground organization. I kept an eye on the French barracks. As discrete as possible, of course, because they knew me there. Smyrna had asked me to do. She wanted to know if there were other than French soldiers around. I had agreed on her demand, also to keep an eye on Lieutenant d'Artois, as far as possible. I also wanted to keep an eye on Smyrna's Hellenic Dawn pals, or on any other kind of fanatic. Lieutenant d'Artois might have been at odds with me, there were higher things at stake as far as it concerned me. And I had nothing else to do.
The indicated place was to the square at the old Ottoman barracks, where the French troops had now their headquarters. I tried to be as invisible as possible, keeping an eye on everything. But nothing happened. In the meantime I had to think ...
Judith, had informed me about what had happened the last days in France. It seemed there were hectic things going on. King Jacques’ position was under fire. Hardline politicians had blamed him for his careful reaction on the assassination in Belgrade. They also blamed him for having been too lenient for the opposition within the Third Estate. If the king had acted more firmly, there would never have been an oath in the velodrome, or riots in Paris. King Jacques was strongly criticized for having allowed that the events had gone too far! I found it strange that the French detachment on Chaos just did business as usual, as there was no political crisis going on in their country. Occasionally a patrol left the barracks, to return an hour later or so. Furthermore, there was little movement. There was definitely no coming or going of soldiers from another army. The logic of Smyrna was, that with such a rebellion in the home country, troops would be recalled from all overseas garrisons, and that they would be replaced by their allies here. But probably, Paris considered the crisis around Chaos severe enough to maintain troops at strength here. Meanwhile, Lieutenant d'Artois himself was nowhere around.
That evening I reported to Smyrna. I told her that there had been nothing particular. But on her face I could see that there was something. Finally she told me she had heard the rumor, and she pressed on my heart that it was a rumor, that fifteen Greeks had been crucified publically in Brol , for espionage. There would also have been people from Chaos among them. She had not more details, and she recalled that it was only a rumor. But it was obviously enough for me to worry about Pavlos, from whom I had heard nothing in about ten days.
I went again on the streets. I was gradually becoming distraught. Distraught by the uncertainty, about Pavlos, about that Lieutenant d'Artois. About my work. All the frustrations met, fed by that half bottle of ouzo with which I had tried to forget the problems. I was wandering through the narrow streets of Chaos city, to eventually get out of where I had been standing all day: in front of the French headquarters. I was hoping to meet Lieutenant d'Artois. I was hoping that Hellenic Dawn had nothing planned. I did not trust them. If Smyrna had put me there on lookout, did it mean that somehow they were up to something? I could not betray Smyrna, but to all others of that organization, I had neither accountability nor loyalty. It had in no time become an obsession: to prevent that something would happen to Lieutenant d’Artois.
I had brought something with me. A handbag. The one I had bought in Laibach. It costed as much as two months of income for an Illyrian worker, remember? In that handbag was still the revolver, Lisa Kellerman, had given me. In the confusion after the failed assassination, and my hurried fleeing to Chaos, no one had paid attention to it. I had maintained it well all the time, as I had learned in Hungary, and I had taken my precautions to avoid it would get stuck when I would need it!
I kept hidden. It was dark now, but there were much less people on the street as usual, so I risked to be too conspicuous . How long I had been there? One hour? Two hours? The soft evening air did well. These were hot days, and on my studio it would probably have been too muggy. Now I could recover in the open air, after all that drinking. My head was clear enough, at least, to notice that I was not alone. Some hundred and fifty feet away, two figures had been standing for a long time at the same place. I knew enough to be convinced that they also were on lookout. I had no idea who they were or what they were planning, but it seemed to me very suspicious.
Suddenly something moved at the gate of the barracks. Three soldiers appeared. They stood talking to each other. Under the light above the entrance I saw that one of them was Lieutenant d'Artois. I looked again and noticed then that their appearance had also attracted the attention of the suspicious figures over there. They had suddenly taken cover. The Lieutenant and another soldier came out while talking, into my direction, and into that of the two figures.
I had to do something. Just one hundred and fifty feet, and they would kill him. For sure! I had to stop it! But how? What could I lose? My freedom? I had already exposed myself to him. With what I had told him, he had basically enough to check my true identity. He already knew that I had been in trouble in France. But I still was free, despite the fact that the French troops were in control.
This was my chance! I could save his life! Then he would no longer be able to ignore me! As he approached, I hid me as good as possible in the alley where I stood. Carefully I grabbed the gun from Laibach from my bag and I cocked it. The cocking seemed to make a hell of a noise, even muffled by the handbag, but luckily no one had noticed it. It was my plan to approach as close as possible on those two soldiers, and, weapon ready, to be faster than those other guys.
I had the weapon concealed in my right hand, and I wanted to leave the alley. Then, from the dark of the alley, someone grabbed my right wrist!
"Aurore! Ne faites pas de bêtises!" said a male voice. With a cry I jerked my hand. As I tried to run out of the alley, a heavy body blocked my way. I felt his hands were trying to grab me, but I could get away and ran into the alley, without looking back.
"Aurore! Arrêtez!" the mysterious man shouted.
"Qu’est ce qui se passe là-bas!?" I heard behind me yet. It was the voice of Lieutenant d’Artois. The incident had attracted the attention of the French soldiers. I didn't look behind and kept running. I heard steps running behind me, but I was very familiar with the maze of alleys in the old town and I soon noticed I was not followed anymore.
Out of breath I reached my studio. Still trembling from the excitement I went inside, took off my clothes and took a shower. This had been a close one! The man who had stopped me, must certainly have thought that I was planning to shoot those two soldiers. If I had been caught that way, appearance would have been against me! Even if I was the one who had possibly avoided an assassination attempt. That was indeed the good news. But who was that man who had intervened? Was he there incidentally, or had he surveyed me? And for how long? And had spoken French with me.
I could not sleep all night. I feared any moment the police or the army would come to arrest me. The next morning, I woke up soon and I went back to the place of last evening. But nothing seemed to have happened there.
I returned to my studio, looking around carefully.
I could not get the incident out of my head.
Particularly because that man had called me ‘Aurore’!
Someone on this island knew my real identity!
(to be continued)
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 - Episode 23
Our office in the Government building looked rather empty. Documents and equipment had been destroyed or seized. Desks were clean and unoccupied. Several colleagues had apparently been told that they were laid off. The others were very silent. They ignored me, or they were apparently worried about their own future.
My desk was also empty, and the only thing that I could do was to wait until someone would give me work. Meanwhile, I could do nothing but to stare through the window at my mountain in the distance. After about an hour of idleness, I was suddenly called to 'the Office'. I stood up, and climbed the stairs to the management floor, one level higher. I was fearing to get the news that I would be laid off too. I could see in the looks of my colleagues they were expecting the same for me. I looked to my mountain, for the last time, I thought, but still with an undefined sense of false hope, as if that grey rock in the distance could help me. Worried, I entered ‘the office’.
"Luisa, you are an Alsacienne, right?"
"Uh, Yes, Yes, indeed!" For a moment, I had to land on my own feet. After all these years I sometimes had to remind myself to my false identity.
"You know, Luisa, the French are here now, and they do not seem to have much confidence in the populations from their border area, which sometimes feel more alliance with the Empire."
"I know! But Sir, just tell me what it’s about, please! The French have pressured the Government to dismiss me!"
"No, no, Luisa! Absolutely not! The Government, in spite of everything, still has a certain independence! Even in this crisis, France must stick the agreements it has signed on the governance of Chaos! No, Luisa, we want you to stay! We want you replace Milos for the time of his absence!"
"Milos!? But I ...!?"
"Luisa, through all these events recently, everything is down here! You also know what happened the last days! The Government should be kept running! The Chaos administration must go on! The French cannot and should not take it over! You have an academic degree and the qualifications to help taking things in hands. In addition, are you the only one fluent in French and you speak good German. Especially that first quality will be useful the next months!"
"And what do the French think about it?"
"As I said, our administration has its own powers and budgets. The French have no control over it. You can use Milos’ office for the time of your assignment!"
"Where is Milos anyway?"
"Milos is.. away because of personal reasons. That’s all I know about it. He is on unpaid leave."
Replacing Milos! The Government did have a lot of confidence in me! Taking his office, on the management floor. A corner office with a view on the port and on my mountain! From the office I saw the Russian ships, still moored. Very long for a so called courtesy call.
Smyrna seemed happy with my promotion. She expected me to provide more inside information, but I stayed reluctant.
Hardly appointed to my new position, trouble came. Nevertheless, the day had started quietly. First, colleagues reacted a bit surprised on hearing about my temporary promotion. However, I immediately took measures to put the service again on the tracks. But in the afternoon of the next day, just before a scheduled meeting, I heard an argument in the office of my chef. He called me, because I spoke French and I was immediately facing Lieutenant d'Artois, who was pressuring my boss to accept the terms he would forward on the meeting. The lieutenant, who had apparently imposed himself to participate to the meeting, was all but pleased with my continued presence in the building, let alone on the management floor.
“What is she doing here?” he barked to the director.
“Miss Schneider is part of our staff for the time being, Lieutenant!” the director replied.
“I don’t trust that Alcasian! Get her out of here!”
“Miss Schneider is a staff member and she will attend the meeting, Lieutenant, like it or not!”
The meeting bogged down in another tough discussion on the missing data carriers, and on the powers of the French troops to intervene in the civil administration of the island. Lieutenant d’Artois more than once looked angry to me, but I ignored him. I had time to observe him. I disgusted the arrogance of his attitude, but it had something admirable too, given my presumptions about his origin. I had the opportunity to look for familiar treats in his face and for looks that recalled Benoît or Robert senior. But strange enough, I only saw resemblance with…Josip!
When the meeting was over, the Lieutenant took me apart again!
“Listen you! I will do everything to get you removed from this position! No! From this office! Prepare to find another job, if you can find one, at least!”
“And you are going too far! You are abusing your power!”
“Listen, you pute Alsacienne ….!”
“WHAT!?”
“I know your kind of women! “
“Calling me an Alsacian whore!? How dare you doubting my honour, Lieutenant!?”
“I have heard stories about you! You seduce officers, taking profit from their absence from home, in order to retrieve information from them! And I bet you are here in this office also to spy! I warn you! Once I get the proof, I have you arrested, and I will see to it personally that you get garroted as a spy, understand!?”
“You better look out, because not everybody is pleased with the French seize of powers, especially not because you acted opportunistically as the puppets of the Russians and even the Ottomans!”
“Is that a threat!?”
“It’s a warning! And do not bring me so far to be ashamed to be a Française.” I said angrily, why I grabbed his arm.
Furiously he went away.
When I was back in my office, the phone rang.
"Government! With Luisa Schneider!"
A male voice replied, in French.
“Aurore d’Artois, I presume?”
“Je suis Luisa…”
“Aurore d’Artois, donc!”
“Mais… qui êtes Vous?”
“Un ami! I am a friend who has already stopped you from a stupidity!”
“Mais … what do you want from me?”
“Soyez prudente Aurore. Beware of Lieutenant d’Artois, never mind how or what you may think about him! Be careful! You could get into trouble soon!”
“Mais comment?”
“And mind your friends, Aurore. One of them is not whom she pretends to be!”
“Mais qu’est-ce que…?”
He had hang up
(to be continued)
Our office in the Government building looked rather empty. Documents and equipment had been destroyed or seized. Desks were clean and unoccupied. Several colleagues had apparently been told that they were laid off. The others were very silent. They ignored me, or they were apparently worried about their own future.
My desk was also empty, and the only thing that I could do was to wait until someone would give me work. Meanwhile, I could do nothing but to stare through the window at my mountain in the distance. After about an hour of idleness, I was suddenly called to 'the Office'. I stood up, and climbed the stairs to the management floor, one level higher. I was fearing to get the news that I would be laid off too. I could see in the looks of my colleagues they were expecting the same for me. I looked to my mountain, for the last time, I thought, but still with an undefined sense of false hope, as if that grey rock in the distance could help me. Worried, I entered ‘the office’.
"Luisa, you are an Alsacienne, right?"
"Uh, Yes, Yes, indeed!" For a moment, I had to land on my own feet. After all these years I sometimes had to remind myself to my false identity.
"You know, Luisa, the French are here now, and they do not seem to have much confidence in the populations from their border area, which sometimes feel more alliance with the Empire."
"I know! But Sir, just tell me what it’s about, please! The French have pressured the Government to dismiss me!"
"No, no, Luisa! Absolutely not! The Government, in spite of everything, still has a certain independence! Even in this crisis, France must stick the agreements it has signed on the governance of Chaos! No, Luisa, we want you to stay! We want you replace Milos for the time of his absence!"
"Milos!? But I ...!?"
"Luisa, through all these events recently, everything is down here! You also know what happened the last days! The Government should be kept running! The Chaos administration must go on! The French cannot and should not take it over! You have an academic degree and the qualifications to help taking things in hands. In addition, are you the only one fluent in French and you speak good German. Especially that first quality will be useful the next months!"
"And what do the French think about it?"
"As I said, our administration has its own powers and budgets. The French have no control over it. You can use Milos’ office for the time of your assignment!"
"Where is Milos anyway?"
"Milos is.. away because of personal reasons. That’s all I know about it. He is on unpaid leave."
Replacing Milos! The Government did have a lot of confidence in me! Taking his office, on the management floor. A corner office with a view on the port and on my mountain! From the office I saw the Russian ships, still moored. Very long for a so called courtesy call.
Smyrna seemed happy with my promotion. She expected me to provide more inside information, but I stayed reluctant.
Hardly appointed to my new position, trouble came. Nevertheless, the day had started quietly. First, colleagues reacted a bit surprised on hearing about my temporary promotion. However, I immediately took measures to put the service again on the tracks. But in the afternoon of the next day, just before a scheduled meeting, I heard an argument in the office of my chef. He called me, because I spoke French and I was immediately facing Lieutenant d'Artois, who was pressuring my boss to accept the terms he would forward on the meeting. The lieutenant, who had apparently imposed himself to participate to the meeting, was all but pleased with my continued presence in the building, let alone on the management floor.
“What is she doing here?” he barked to the director.
“Miss Schneider is part of our staff for the time being, Lieutenant!” the director replied.
“I don’t trust that Alcasian! Get her out of here!”
“Miss Schneider is a staff member and she will attend the meeting, Lieutenant, like it or not!”
The meeting bogged down in another tough discussion on the missing data carriers, and on the powers of the French troops to intervene in the civil administration of the island. Lieutenant d’Artois more than once looked angry to me, but I ignored him. I had time to observe him. I disgusted the arrogance of his attitude, but it had something admirable too, given my presumptions about his origin. I had the opportunity to look for familiar treats in his face and for looks that recalled Benoît or Robert senior. But strange enough, I only saw resemblance with…Josip!
When the meeting was over, the Lieutenant took me apart again!
“Listen you! I will do everything to get you removed from this position! No! From this office! Prepare to find another job, if you can find one, at least!”
“And you are going too far! You are abusing your power!”
“Listen, you pute Alsacienne ….!”
“WHAT!?”
“I know your kind of women! “
“Calling me an Alsacian whore!? How dare you doubting my honour, Lieutenant!?”
“I have heard stories about you! You seduce officers, taking profit from their absence from home, in order to retrieve information from them! And I bet you are here in this office also to spy! I warn you! Once I get the proof, I have you arrested, and I will see to it personally that you get garroted as a spy, understand!?”
“You better look out, because not everybody is pleased with the French seize of powers, especially not because you acted opportunistically as the puppets of the Russians and even the Ottomans!”
“Is that a threat!?”
“It’s a warning! And do not bring me so far to be ashamed to be a Française.” I said angrily, why I grabbed his arm.
Furiously he went away.
When I was back in my office, the phone rang.
"Government! With Luisa Schneider!"
A male voice replied, in French.
“Aurore d’Artois, I presume?”
“Je suis Luisa…”
“Aurore d’Artois, donc!”
“Mais… qui êtes Vous?”
“Un ami! I am a friend who has already stopped you from a stupidity!”
“Mais … what do you want from me?”
“Soyez prudente Aurore. Beware of Lieutenant d’Artois, never mind how or what you may think about him! Be careful! You could get into trouble soon!”
“Mais comment?”
“And mind your friends, Aurore. One of them is not whom she pretends to be!”
“Mais qu’est-ce que…?”
He had hang up
(to be continued)
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 - Episode 24
I couldn't believe that one of my girlfriends would betray me. They had all their reason for being here. They were all on the run from a threat, right? All except Judith, who still slipped through the regulations and still had access to amenities at the port? But she had always been very transparent about her past.
The first test offered itself quickly. Smyrna had contacted me the same day. She was apparently still insisting to get my help for the Hellenic Dawn. Smyrna had suggested me to take part in a consultation with some 'contacts'.
What kind of ‘contacts’? That sounded weird! Were third parties getting involved into the Hellenic Dawn affairs? I did not trust it, but Smyrna ignored my worries.
I decided to go to the appointment. But I had taken my precautions. The appointment was outside the walls, in the Saint Paul’s Quarter. That was located just outside the gate with the same name. Smyrna and I had decided to go apart, in order not to draw attention from the guards at the gate. I took the Saint John's Gate and had to walk the longest distance. I went across the taxi square, which now looked scarily empty, I passed along the tourist shops, many of which were closed, and so I came in the villa quarter of the Saint Paul District. I came out on a five streets crossroads and went into the street where the appointment was.
Constantly, I looked around to see if I was followed. I arrived at the location of the appointment, but I did not go inside immediately. I walked on. I went around the block of villas, and then, carefully, I returned on my steps. I took my time. I still did not enter, continued to the crossroads, went around another block and back. All the time changing my pace, while looking around.
However, everything seemed clear. I looked once more around and entered the garden of the villa. From the trees and shrubs came the chirping sound of crickets. I had to be careful here, because the villa was partly hidden from the street by the vegetation. Anyone could be hiding in an ambush here or stand on lookout. I was hoping that Smyrna had taken the same precautions as me.
The quarter was a residential area. The villa must formerly have belonged to a doctor, in times when this district was probably more flourishing than it looked like today. The side door had probably given access for the patients to the cabinet. The agreement was that we would knock on the side door. After the coded knock signal, someone would challenge me with 'Spiros?' I had to reply 'Marmaris'. I took another deep breath and gave the agreed knock signal. 'Knock-Knock', soon after each other, and then two more beats with a longer interval. But ‘Spiros ' did not show up. The door stood ajar, what was also not agreed.
My sense of caution urged me to go away. But something was wrong. I heard all sorts of weird noises inside. So I pushed open the heavy door and I stepped inside, carefully and as silently as possible.
Once inside I heard the sounds better. A female voice – Smyrna – begging and anxious : "oxi oxi –" (‘no – no’). And laughter and groans of men, who were encouraging each other. Worried I stepped inside. My worst fears were true. I saw four men, apparently in military uniform, standing around Smyrna. She was all naked, bent forward on a table. One soldier pushed her shoulders down, while a second, with his pants on the ankles, was banging into her. A third looked on, laughing and sheering, with a bottle of wine in his hands. The fourth as well ...
The fourth had seen me immediately. I saw a full moon face come up to me, a mixture of lust and primitive rage in his looks. It was clear what he was planning to do with me ... But he had not reckoned on one thing. I did not hesitate. My hand was in my handbag from Laibach. My fist was holding the gun. My finger was on to pull the trigger. The weapon was cocked. No zipper or straps would hinder me. I did not even take the gun out of my handbag. I fired straight through the handbag’s bottom. I took no time to aim, but that was not necessary because he was already so close that I could not miss. I felt a flash of pain on my hand, and through a cloud of smoke and dust, the full moon face turned into a cramped grimace of pain, and fell down out of my sight.
The shot had blown away the handbag. I now had my hand free. I cocked again. The next was that guy with his bottle. He had been instantly alarmed. He was about to assault me too, but I was once again faster. A well-aimed bullet (‘grain in the middle of the keep and on equal height’) entered his skull between his left eye and his left ear. A bottle broke. The third one was the one who held down Smyrna and who now realized what was going on. But – ‘cock-aim’ - too late. Nearly at point blank he got a bullet in his neck. The fourth was the one who had been taking Smyrna. I shot him in the chest. He collapsed, but crawled upright again, with a loud cry, and with a flaming rage in his eyes. He stretched his arm to grab me, but I shot a bullet between his eyes that made his head jerk behind and smash against the blood stained wall, and this time he was done. I looked around. I had them all. I blew the smoke from the muzzle.
Smyrna and I overlooked the havoc. There was smoke. There was a smell of powder, of drinks (wine and amaretto?) and of blood. The four men lay dead or dying on the floor.
“Shiiit! Five bullets to kill four! One wasted!”
Confused, almost shocked, Smyrna looked around.
"My God, Luisa! What have you done? What a massacre! Was that really necessary?"
"What's wrong with saying 'thanks for rescuing me, Aurore'?" I said annoyed, with a trembling voice.
"Aurore? Who is Aurore?"
"Forget about it, Smyrna!“
"Well, you're right, thank you! Damn it. They ... they wanted even not to talk. They grabbed me, tore my clothes from my body, and…! Why?"
"For the simple reason that they are no better than all the others! I hope you have learned your lesson, Smyrna now!"
"Yes, Yes, Luisa, but, let us now go away! Immediately!"
"Wait a minute!" I said. "Now that I'm here, I would like to figure out some things!"
"What are you going to do?"
“Find out who they are!? They are wearing French navy uniforms?”
“No! But please let’s go! I cannot stand this horrible scene any longer!”
"Let's see what we have here!" I started to search their bags. “A Russian army passport! And this one too! Were your contacts Russian, Smyrna? Are they about to interfere with Hellenic Dawn business?”
"Luisa! No! Don’t!?"
"What do we have here!? That guy that was raping you! This is no Russian. He has a French army passport!"
"So what?"
"A French first lieutenant. A colleague of Robert. Strange?"
"I don't know! We have barely talked. They had drunk!"
"What was the purpose of this discussion anyway?"
"I don't know! Exploratory contacts!"
"Exploratory, I have noticed what they mean with that! About what?"
"On cooperation, Luisa! That is they had told me!"
"Cooperation? What kind of?"
"I don't know! That was just the agenda!?"
"For charging the Hellenic Dawn with doing the dirty work for the French and Russians?"
"Luisa! Hold on, please!"
“To me, you have been lured for a so-called secret meeting, just to have them make some fun with a pretty blonde, knowing you would never file complaints without deeply incriminating yourself! Damn Smyrna, did your mother never tell you to never go along with strangers?”
“Luisa! Stop treating me as a dumb blonde, will you!? Let’s go, please!?”
"And this one here, which was so helpful to push you against the table!? That's an Ottoman First Sergeant!"
"What!?"
"Yes! Interesting to learn that the Hellenic Dawn is getting on talking terms with the Ottomans!"
"But I did not know!? But ... I have handed over already names of HD contacts!"
"Brilliant, Smyrna! Professional too!"
"Luisa, let us go now, please! I want to get out of here!"
"Just one moment! I take everything with me what I find here! Olga can translate that Russian, if she pops up again! And who had that briefcase? Our Frenchman, apparently! Those documents can be interesting. I take them with me! Besides, before we go away, get your clothes on, will you!?"
"But Luisa! Those papers belong to our ..."
"To our allies, are you saying? Nice allies! Look at yourself out there! I know one thing! What they have done with you, they will do with all the Greek people, if they get the chance. Count on it! And besides, there is nothing wrong to gather as much information, even about your allies. That can always be useful. And now put your clothes on, then we're out of here!"
"Luisa! How can you be so ... I do not recognize you, so. ..?"
"So cool and harsh, you mean? Listen, Smyrna, my legs are still shaking and I am full of adrenaline! And I know one thing, and that is that what happened here hopefully will not announce a future world order! French, Russian and Ottoman, an axis of evil that just gang raped you! If that would be right, it looks very bad for all of us on Chaos! "
I ordered Smyrna we would go outside separately. We would also return the city by another city gate and then meet again at an appointed place. I would leave by the main entrance, she by a small gate backward in the garden of the villa, giving way to an adjoining Street. But I would first explore that gate. Everything seemed in order. Under cover of the plants, I went to the main entrance of the garden. But just before I got there, I heard footsteps on the street. Footsteps that stopped and returned. I tried to peep through the leaves as quietly as possible. I saw a woman. Olga!? What was she doing here? Had she followed me? Olga went into the direction of the five streets. I ran, against the agreement with Smyrna and against all caution, to the back gate, slipped into the other street, and arrived just in time to see Olga in the distance crossing the five streets crossroads.
I accelerated my pace and I even ran, hoping to follow her. From the crossroads, I saw her, in the distance, walking towards the taxi square. Then she went into a building. I was too far away to be able to see in it which one. I followed the street, about to where she had gone inside. The buildings were all large houses and commercial premises, mostly about a century old. Once they must have looked proud, now they were in decay. Meanwhile, I found no indication about where Olga might have gone inside. I hung around some more, remembering that I still had an appointment with Smyrna. I should also avoid getting careless. Then, two men left one of the buildings. They crossed the street and took one of the few taxis waiting on the square. I was sure that they talked Russian.
I took Smyrna home. She immediately took a bath. In the meantime I went through the papers I had taken from the soldiers. Most were dispatches for the military in Chaos. Duty schedules, instructions, guard rolls. But one document caught my attention.
When Smyrna was ready, she helped taking care of my hand. The muzzle fire of the first shot, from inside my handbag, had left a painful burn on the back of my right hand and on my fingers. I decided to tell Smyrna nothing about Olga.
"Smyrna," I said, "what was actually intended that you could discuss? Be honest about that?"
"We would talk about collaboration, about intelligence gathering."
"About what?"
"I don't know!"
"And just intelligence?"
"What are you talking about ...?"
"I'm talking about Aghia Appolonia, Smyrna!"
"Aghia Appolonia?"
"Right! The only place on the island still held by Holy Roman Empire troops! Where they have their big radio interception station! Annoying for the French, Ottomans and the Russians to be monitored from so close! But embarrassing to do something against. It falls under the Treaty, over the control of Chaos."
"But ...?"
"But having it attacked by Greek nationalists on the other hand!? I told you, they want the Hellenic Dawn do the dirty work for them!”
"But, why do you think ...?"
"Another pain in the neck for the French is the independent attitude of the Government. I noticed it yesterday during a meeting with a French officer! There is nothing about it in these documents, but I have already told you I am not eager to have myself blown up by some Hellenic Dawn fanatics! Think again, what you are planning to do!"
"Luisa, we…."
"Smyrna! With all due respect to your ideals, but you are being used! Think about it! Or how much time do you need to get raped, before it will be clear to you!?"
"Luisa! Do not teach me lessons! It is about our country!"
"It is too late, Smyrna! You are the one that has implicated me, remember? There are four death in that house, and I have shot them, in an alleged Hellenic Dawn appointment!"
Our conversation ran out into an argument. Until we both were exhausted. In the end she asked me not to leave her alone that night.
So I stayed with Smyrna. She could not sleep that night. Neither did I by the way. Understandably, after what had happened in the villa. When I fell asleep, all night I dreamed of the same. Of that scene when I entered the room where Smyrna was raped. And I always saw that savage full moon face. And that gun, that never worked. And room was full of chirping crickets. Thousands of them! But I was the only one there who seemed to be terrorized by them. And at times Lieutenant d'Artois was also in that room. He ordered me to not to interfere with the rape of Smyrna. And he warned me about a traitor among my friends. When I asked him where he was born, he gave me his military passport. But I could not read the text, in my dream. And then I woke up, I was sweating profusely, my heart was terribly beating and I had a splitting headache. But as soon as I closed my eyes again, the terror of the crickets, crawling over the walls, making a hell of a chirping noise, started again.
Smyrna was doing worse. To the morning she had to vomit several times. She suffered nausea and severe headaches, she complained either of having too cold or too warm and she could not find rest. Although I felt terribly sick and dead tired, I went to work!
(to be continued)
I couldn't believe that one of my girlfriends would betray me. They had all their reason for being here. They were all on the run from a threat, right? All except Judith, who still slipped through the regulations and still had access to amenities at the port? But she had always been very transparent about her past.
The first test offered itself quickly. Smyrna had contacted me the same day. She was apparently still insisting to get my help for the Hellenic Dawn. Smyrna had suggested me to take part in a consultation with some 'contacts'.
What kind of ‘contacts’? That sounded weird! Were third parties getting involved into the Hellenic Dawn affairs? I did not trust it, but Smyrna ignored my worries.
I decided to go to the appointment. But I had taken my precautions. The appointment was outside the walls, in the Saint Paul’s Quarter. That was located just outside the gate with the same name. Smyrna and I had decided to go apart, in order not to draw attention from the guards at the gate. I took the Saint John's Gate and had to walk the longest distance. I went across the taxi square, which now looked scarily empty, I passed along the tourist shops, many of which were closed, and so I came in the villa quarter of the Saint Paul District. I came out on a five streets crossroads and went into the street where the appointment was.
Constantly, I looked around to see if I was followed. I arrived at the location of the appointment, but I did not go inside immediately. I walked on. I went around the block of villas, and then, carefully, I returned on my steps. I took my time. I still did not enter, continued to the crossroads, went around another block and back. All the time changing my pace, while looking around.
However, everything seemed clear. I looked once more around and entered the garden of the villa. From the trees and shrubs came the chirping sound of crickets. I had to be careful here, because the villa was partly hidden from the street by the vegetation. Anyone could be hiding in an ambush here or stand on lookout. I was hoping that Smyrna had taken the same precautions as me.
The quarter was a residential area. The villa must formerly have belonged to a doctor, in times when this district was probably more flourishing than it looked like today. The side door had probably given access for the patients to the cabinet. The agreement was that we would knock on the side door. After the coded knock signal, someone would challenge me with 'Spiros?' I had to reply 'Marmaris'. I took another deep breath and gave the agreed knock signal. 'Knock-Knock', soon after each other, and then two more beats with a longer interval. But ‘Spiros ' did not show up. The door stood ajar, what was also not agreed.
My sense of caution urged me to go away. But something was wrong. I heard all sorts of weird noises inside. So I pushed open the heavy door and I stepped inside, carefully and as silently as possible.
Once inside I heard the sounds better. A female voice – Smyrna – begging and anxious : "oxi oxi –" (‘no – no’). And laughter and groans of men, who were encouraging each other. Worried I stepped inside. My worst fears were true. I saw four men, apparently in military uniform, standing around Smyrna. She was all naked, bent forward on a table. One soldier pushed her shoulders down, while a second, with his pants on the ankles, was banging into her. A third looked on, laughing and sheering, with a bottle of wine in his hands. The fourth as well ...
The fourth had seen me immediately. I saw a full moon face come up to me, a mixture of lust and primitive rage in his looks. It was clear what he was planning to do with me ... But he had not reckoned on one thing. I did not hesitate. My hand was in my handbag from Laibach. My fist was holding the gun. My finger was on to pull the trigger. The weapon was cocked. No zipper or straps would hinder me. I did not even take the gun out of my handbag. I fired straight through the handbag’s bottom. I took no time to aim, but that was not necessary because he was already so close that I could not miss. I felt a flash of pain on my hand, and through a cloud of smoke and dust, the full moon face turned into a cramped grimace of pain, and fell down out of my sight.
The shot had blown away the handbag. I now had my hand free. I cocked again. The next was that guy with his bottle. He had been instantly alarmed. He was about to assault me too, but I was once again faster. A well-aimed bullet (‘grain in the middle of the keep and on equal height’) entered his skull between his left eye and his left ear. A bottle broke. The third one was the one who held down Smyrna and who now realized what was going on. But – ‘cock-aim’ - too late. Nearly at point blank he got a bullet in his neck. The fourth was the one who had been taking Smyrna. I shot him in the chest. He collapsed, but crawled upright again, with a loud cry, and with a flaming rage in his eyes. He stretched his arm to grab me, but I shot a bullet between his eyes that made his head jerk behind and smash against the blood stained wall, and this time he was done. I looked around. I had them all. I blew the smoke from the muzzle.
Smyrna and I overlooked the havoc. There was smoke. There was a smell of powder, of drinks (wine and amaretto?) and of blood. The four men lay dead or dying on the floor.
“Shiiit! Five bullets to kill four! One wasted!”
Confused, almost shocked, Smyrna looked around.
"My God, Luisa! What have you done? What a massacre! Was that really necessary?"
"What's wrong with saying 'thanks for rescuing me, Aurore'?" I said annoyed, with a trembling voice.
"Aurore? Who is Aurore?"
"Forget about it, Smyrna!“
"Well, you're right, thank you! Damn it. They ... they wanted even not to talk. They grabbed me, tore my clothes from my body, and…! Why?"
"For the simple reason that they are no better than all the others! I hope you have learned your lesson, Smyrna now!"
"Yes, Yes, Luisa, but, let us now go away! Immediately!"
"Wait a minute!" I said. "Now that I'm here, I would like to figure out some things!"
"What are you going to do?"
“Find out who they are!? They are wearing French navy uniforms?”
“No! But please let’s go! I cannot stand this horrible scene any longer!”
"Let's see what we have here!" I started to search their bags. “A Russian army passport! And this one too! Were your contacts Russian, Smyrna? Are they about to interfere with Hellenic Dawn business?”
"Luisa! No! Don’t!?"
"What do we have here!? That guy that was raping you! This is no Russian. He has a French army passport!"
"So what?"
"A French first lieutenant. A colleague of Robert. Strange?"
"I don't know! We have barely talked. They had drunk!"
"What was the purpose of this discussion anyway?"
"I don't know! Exploratory contacts!"
"Exploratory, I have noticed what they mean with that! About what?"
"On cooperation, Luisa! That is they had told me!"
"Cooperation? What kind of?"
"I don't know! That was just the agenda!?"
"For charging the Hellenic Dawn with doing the dirty work for the French and Russians?"
"Luisa! Hold on, please!"
“To me, you have been lured for a so-called secret meeting, just to have them make some fun with a pretty blonde, knowing you would never file complaints without deeply incriminating yourself! Damn Smyrna, did your mother never tell you to never go along with strangers?”
“Luisa! Stop treating me as a dumb blonde, will you!? Let’s go, please!?”
"And this one here, which was so helpful to push you against the table!? That's an Ottoman First Sergeant!"
"What!?"
"Yes! Interesting to learn that the Hellenic Dawn is getting on talking terms with the Ottomans!"
"But I did not know!? But ... I have handed over already names of HD contacts!"
"Brilliant, Smyrna! Professional too!"
"Luisa, let us go now, please! I want to get out of here!"
"Just one moment! I take everything with me what I find here! Olga can translate that Russian, if she pops up again! And who had that briefcase? Our Frenchman, apparently! Those documents can be interesting. I take them with me! Besides, before we go away, get your clothes on, will you!?"
"But Luisa! Those papers belong to our ..."
"To our allies, are you saying? Nice allies! Look at yourself out there! I know one thing! What they have done with you, they will do with all the Greek people, if they get the chance. Count on it! And besides, there is nothing wrong to gather as much information, even about your allies. That can always be useful. And now put your clothes on, then we're out of here!"
"Luisa! How can you be so ... I do not recognize you, so. ..?"
"So cool and harsh, you mean? Listen, Smyrna, my legs are still shaking and I am full of adrenaline! And I know one thing, and that is that what happened here hopefully will not announce a future world order! French, Russian and Ottoman, an axis of evil that just gang raped you! If that would be right, it looks very bad for all of us on Chaos! "
I ordered Smyrna we would go outside separately. We would also return the city by another city gate and then meet again at an appointed place. I would leave by the main entrance, she by a small gate backward in the garden of the villa, giving way to an adjoining Street. But I would first explore that gate. Everything seemed in order. Under cover of the plants, I went to the main entrance of the garden. But just before I got there, I heard footsteps on the street. Footsteps that stopped and returned. I tried to peep through the leaves as quietly as possible. I saw a woman. Olga!? What was she doing here? Had she followed me? Olga went into the direction of the five streets. I ran, against the agreement with Smyrna and against all caution, to the back gate, slipped into the other street, and arrived just in time to see Olga in the distance crossing the five streets crossroads.
I accelerated my pace and I even ran, hoping to follow her. From the crossroads, I saw her, in the distance, walking towards the taxi square. Then she went into a building. I was too far away to be able to see in it which one. I followed the street, about to where she had gone inside. The buildings were all large houses and commercial premises, mostly about a century old. Once they must have looked proud, now they were in decay. Meanwhile, I found no indication about where Olga might have gone inside. I hung around some more, remembering that I still had an appointment with Smyrna. I should also avoid getting careless. Then, two men left one of the buildings. They crossed the street and took one of the few taxis waiting on the square. I was sure that they talked Russian.
I took Smyrna home. She immediately took a bath. In the meantime I went through the papers I had taken from the soldiers. Most were dispatches for the military in Chaos. Duty schedules, instructions, guard rolls. But one document caught my attention.
When Smyrna was ready, she helped taking care of my hand. The muzzle fire of the first shot, from inside my handbag, had left a painful burn on the back of my right hand and on my fingers. I decided to tell Smyrna nothing about Olga.
"Smyrna," I said, "what was actually intended that you could discuss? Be honest about that?"
"We would talk about collaboration, about intelligence gathering."
"About what?"
"I don't know!"
"And just intelligence?"
"What are you talking about ...?"
"I'm talking about Aghia Appolonia, Smyrna!"
"Aghia Appolonia?"
"Right! The only place on the island still held by Holy Roman Empire troops! Where they have their big radio interception station! Annoying for the French, Ottomans and the Russians to be monitored from so close! But embarrassing to do something against. It falls under the Treaty, over the control of Chaos."
"But ...?"
"But having it attacked by Greek nationalists on the other hand!? I told you, they want the Hellenic Dawn do the dirty work for them!”
"But, why do you think ...?"
"Another pain in the neck for the French is the independent attitude of the Government. I noticed it yesterday during a meeting with a French officer! There is nothing about it in these documents, but I have already told you I am not eager to have myself blown up by some Hellenic Dawn fanatics! Think again, what you are planning to do!"
"Luisa, we…."
"Smyrna! With all due respect to your ideals, but you are being used! Think about it! Or how much time do you need to get raped, before it will be clear to you!?"
"Luisa! Do not teach me lessons! It is about our country!"
"It is too late, Smyrna! You are the one that has implicated me, remember? There are four death in that house, and I have shot them, in an alleged Hellenic Dawn appointment!"
Our conversation ran out into an argument. Until we both were exhausted. In the end she asked me not to leave her alone that night.
So I stayed with Smyrna. She could not sleep that night. Neither did I by the way. Understandably, after what had happened in the villa. When I fell asleep, all night I dreamed of the same. Of that scene when I entered the room where Smyrna was raped. And I always saw that savage full moon face. And that gun, that never worked. And room was full of chirping crickets. Thousands of them! But I was the only one there who seemed to be terrorized by them. And at times Lieutenant d'Artois was also in that room. He ordered me to not to interfere with the rape of Smyrna. And he warned me about a traitor among my friends. When I asked him where he was born, he gave me his military passport. But I could not read the text, in my dream. And then I woke up, I was sweating profusely, my heart was terribly beating and I had a splitting headache. But as soon as I closed my eyes again, the terror of the crickets, crawling over the walls, making a hell of a chirping noise, started again.
Smyrna was doing worse. To the morning she had to vomit several times. She suffered nausea and severe headaches, she complained either of having too cold or too warm and she could not find rest. Although I felt terribly sick and dead tired, I went to work!
(to be continued)
phew!
old slave
FELIS RESPICIENS
One hell of a lady you've described there, Loxuru,
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 - Episode 25
I felt terrible to go to work that day. That headache! The painful burn on my hand, reminded me that it had not been a dream that I had shot and killed four soldiers. It had really happened, the evening before. I could not think of anything else!
I was barely at work (or tried to do so with that terrible headache), as I got a phone call.
“Luisa, someone wants to talk to you, at the reception desk!”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know! A French army officer.”
“What!? Again!?”
I went down to the reception desk, very worried. Had they found the bodies already?
But it was not Lieutenant d’Artois, but a Captain named Ramoz.
“Mademoiselle Schneider, may I have a word with you?”
“About what, Captain?”
“Just a few questions, Mademoiselle!”
“About what, Captain?”
“About you, Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Schneider, I am from the Deuxième Bureau of the French forces on the island. That means, we are in charge of the intelligence and security of our troops here. I have been given the order to contact all resident subjects of the King of France.”
We took place on a bench in the courtyard of the palace. The captain took a notebook and a pen. First, he demanded to see my passport. For a minute or so, he studied it thoroughly. Anxiously, I waited. Should he notice it was forged?”
“It is an old model, clearly! It is no longer valid for returning to France!”
“I know, Captain!”
“So, you are Luisa Schneider, born in Saverne, France?”
“That’s right, Captain!”
“I notice, you work here in the administration of the Government, which is rather unusual for foreigners. You have some qualification for the job, I presume!? An academic degree?”
“Yes, Captain, in State Governance.”
“Obtained where, Mademoiselle?”
“In Paris, at the Sorbonne!”
“The Sorbonne? Not bad! A top university! You must be a good one!”
“Thank you!”
“What is the name of your father, Mademoiselle?”
His question surprised me completely. Two or three seconds I had to think a way out.
“Well…. Schneider, I guess…”
“You guess, Mademoiselle. You don’t know your father’s name. What was his job?”
“Something… something in the administration of Saverne..”
“A civil servant? A clerk?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Lucky you, Mademoiselle, a daughter of a simple Alsacian clerk goes to an expensive and exclusive university as the Sorbonne!?”
“As you say, Captain, one has to have luck! But Captain, I must tell you this! In case you would think so, I was not a member of an Alsacian separatist movement or of groups that wanted the area go back to the Holy Roman Empire! I was raised as a good French girl, in case some of you might suspect me of non-French allegiances!” I figured, counter-attack was now the best option to talk me out of this muddle of lies I was sinking in.
“Then Mademoiselle Schneider, why are you hiding – because that is what you are doing here – on Chaos? What made you leave France?”
“I… had read Montesquieu! And I dreamed of getting his ideas in practice!”
“Ideas about what, Mademoiselle?”
“About state government derived from a social contact between the authorities and the people. Of separation of legislative, executive and judicial power. About… well basically about democracy and power deriving from the will of the people!”
“Democracy! The will of the people! I tell you, Mademoiselle Schneider, these thoughts are beautiful ideals, but in practice, they simply do not work! What we need is law and order, derived from a strong kinghood! That keeps the social order and cohesion of a country upright. Separation of powers? Ridiculous! Imagine, where would we end up if the king would no longer be allowed guide a judge’s verdict? Or declare laws? I tell you this, Mademoiselle! Democracy is the shortest way to lead a strong and powerful nation into ruin and anarchy!”
“I think different, Captain!”
“You will not go far with those dangerous ideas in France, Mademoiselle! You risk to get garroted for the simple possession of a book of Montesquieu! He may have been an idealist, but for practical application, all he wrote was bullshit! Yet, even bullshit can bring people to bad ideas! But I have another question!” as he showed up a photograph. “Do you know this man?”
Surprised, I looked at the picture. Sure I knew him, but one lie more or less did not matter anymore. So I denied to know him. After all, it had been some many years since I had seen him the last time!
After work, I went to see Smyrna, but she was too ill to get up. She had less trouble with nausea, but now she was wrecked and caught up sleep. I went to my studio, but I promised her to come back.
I was glad that I got there. I had walked from Smyrna to my studio made with heavy legs. I was sweating like a horse. Underway, I feared by moments that I would have to sit down, otherwise I would have fainted. But the content that I carried with me was too implicating. It surprised me that there had been no control underway. Or they had the killing not yet been discovered? Was the French army not yet missing an officer yet?
When I finally had arrived in my studio, I dropped on my bed. It felt just like I would faint, so dizzy I was. After an hour are I stood up and I took a shower. It refreshed a little bit, and I tried to get order in my thoughts. That gun. I had to get rid of it? Sooner or later they would that find the corpses in the villa anyway? There were lots of traces leading to me or Smyrna?
With just a bathrobe, I began to search everything. First the gun. I would keep for the time being. There was still one bullet left. This could still be useful? If necessary, one to blow myself through my head.
On the other hand, my handbag, the expensive handbag from Laibach, the one that had cost two months wages of an average Illyrian worker, remember, was a ‘total loss’. I would better get rid of it. There was a big hole in the bottom, and around it was all frayed and scorched. No doubt, fibers had spread around during the first shot and they were now all around in the room in the villa. Had I better thrown it away immediately, because the damaged fibers were spread everywhere now : in the villa, at Smyrna’s, and here with me. And considering the age and exclusivity of the handbag, it was probably quite unique on the island. But on the other hand, I had to also consider fingerprints. So, better not throw it away, but try to destroy it. Unseen, thoroughly and as quickly as possible. But without being spotted. I had probably made too many mistakes for the perfect crime, but I had to save what could be saved. Only the time was now my ally.
There was something strange with the handbag? The smell of amaretto! That smell had been in the room of the villa too, after the firing! Had there been amaretto? I had only seen wine!
Despite my headache, I tried to study the documents further. The French officer was first lieutenant Christian Ravaneaux. He belonged to the same unit as Robert d’Artois. Thirty-two years old. And now 'mort pour la patrie'. How would they explain it at home? Would they reveal to his relatives the real circumstances of his death? Probably not .
The Russian passports I could not read. Although the Cyrillic alphabet showed some similarities with the Greek, that I had in the meantime under control, the Russian language was too difficult for me. Maybe Olga could help? But could I still trust Olga? Too bad for her, if she would be innocent, but I would try a Russian-French dictionary.
Then there was that document on the radio interception station of Aghia Appolonia. Not really burdensome, but still suspicious. The loss of Aghia Appolonia would put the troops of the Holy Roman Empire and its allies completely deaf and blind. Problem: the station was officially run on behalf of the knight order, hood, and was manned by soldiers of the Empire. That stood, in a treaty that the King of France had signed. France could not just take over the station, without serious diplomatic consequences. But a takeover by a 'third party , in which the French would then supposedly ‘come to help’, that looked like a plausible scenario. And if the French were in control, the Russians might share the information. Would they dare to play such a high game, and would the Hellenic Dawn have itself implicated in it?
There was a knock on the door.
"Luisa? It's me, Judith!"
Even before I got the chance to say 'yes', Judith was inside. I just got the time to hide the gun under my pillow, but the rest of the stuff lay open and exposed. I tried to conceal the damaged handbag under my bed.
"Is everything all right, Luisa? Are you sick?"
"A bit, Yes. Some headache. Migraine, I think. "
"What's happened with your hand?"
"Burned,… er, during cooking."
"I did not know you liked cooking?"
"I still don’t, and that's why I have burned my hand!"
"And what’s that weird smell? It seems like.. almonds or something?"
"Maybe!" (so far the 'perfect crime').
"And those papers? Where did you get that from?" She took a sheet with Russian text and started to read it. Her look got serious, very serious.
"Oh dear!" she said, "Oh dear!"
"Is something wrong?"
"I already thought something was at hand!" she said.
"Aghia Appolonia?" I asked.
"Aghia Appolonia! Where did you find that?”
"That's quite a story."
"Tell me later but. You did a great job!"
"But Judith, what's going on?"
"Ottoman troops have invaded Mesopotamia! The English army is on the run. The fall of Baghdad is a matter of one or two days."
"The troops of the Sultan, in Mesopotamia, but....?"
"With the approval of the Tsar! But I must now urgently go! Can I take these with me?"
"Oui! Bien oui!"
"Thanks a lot!" And she went out, leaving me with more questions than before.
(I did not know Judith could read Russian).
I opened that shattered handbag again. Inside, it was completely destroyed and blackened. In a side pocket, I found partly burnt accounts from a café in Laibach, and the ticket of the purchase of the handbag itself. I remembered vaguely the cloud of paper and fiber that was thrown around at the first shot in the room of the villa. Then I noticed something glittering. Numerous small parts of glass. I found a half burned little cardboard box! Then I knew it! The cyanide capsule, which Lisa had given me in Laibach! That smell of amaretto that was almond smell, typical of cyanide. Completely forgotten! That capsule was likely fragmented by that first shot! The content must have been evaporated in the ambient air. Smyrna, who’s head had been straight under the gun’s barrel, must have inhaled it. So had I, but my head had not been under the evaporating cloud! But either Smyrna and me must have inhaled more than enough of it to get terribly sick and get a splitting headache!
I had to do something. I had to go to Smyrna. Along the way I would buy a bottle of Madeira wine, as an antidote. Combat a hangover with a hangover, if necessary. I fumbled the paper together. That gun. What to do? It could be dangerous on the streets. But even more dangerous would it be if I would be stopped by a patrol. Probably, the complete French garrison was looking for the murderer of their Lieutenant. Leave it here?
I went to the shop where Maryszkà worked and bought a bottle of Madeira wine. Maryszkà, however, was still nowhere around and no one knew where she was at that time. Underway I considered I had to tell Smyrna about the cyanide. She had the right to know. At least, since she now knew I had a weapon and a suspicious past!
But Smyrna was curiously enough not at home. I had no clue where she was. I waited half an hour, and when she still did not show up, I drank half the Madeira wine myself, and let the bottle behind, with a note: 'drink this, till the bottle is empty! Don't ask questions, explanation follows later. (signed.) Luisa ' When I left (a little tipsy in my head), I looked around if Smyrna was not coming. I saw her nowhere, but then I saw ... Olga? Or had I mistaken? I started to see ghosts, with my head full of cyanide and Madeira wine?
The Madeira wine had only worsened my headache. I returned to my studio and went straight to bed, hiding under a pillow to foreclosure all light. I was still not quite all right, I still felt terrible, actually. But I was restless too. I wanted to rest but I needed fresh air. I went back to Smyrna, but she was still not there. However, there was nothing indicating that there had been police around. I intended to return home once more. But then I got another idea. That Captain Ramoz! Was his interrogation just a coincidence, or had he been playing with me? I just had the time before dark to check out something! Through the Saint Paul’s Gate I went to the taxi square. The neighborhood where I had seen Olga last evening. And, on the other hand, near the place where ... Well, they say that every criminal returns to the scene of his crime, right?
Actually I was too sick to walk! Every footstep felt like walking steep uphill and caused a painful drumbeat in my head! I passed the city gate undisturbed. I hung around briefly on the taxi square. It was about a day ago that I had seen Olga here. She was nowhere around.
Then I stood again in front of the villa. If this had been a place of a crime, then it was quiet here. I looked around and entered the premises. Cautiously I opened the side door.
I didn't have to wait long. Already in the entrance a terrible smell hang around. There were insects! No crickets but big flies. There must have been thousands of them! I carefully pushed the door of the room, just enough to spot a pair of boots with content, lying on the floor. I knew now the bodies were still there! I had nothing more to look for, I had to go as soon as possible, otherwise I would throw up from the stench! When I turned around, there was someone behind me! I screamed as hell!
“Olga!?” Olga had just entered the building.
"Luisa! What are you doing here?"
"Olga! You did scare me!"
"That I have noticed! But what are you doing here? In that abandoned villa? It is dangerous here!"
"I uh, ... I was just looking around, for… for interesting real estate. I do that kind of work, you know. But indeed, it is rather nasty here! Come, let us go!"
"That’s what I mean! And it stinks here!"
"Probably there is a cadaver of some death beast rotting there!. But what are you doing here then?"
In the meantime I tried to move her back to the exit.
"I ... I am around here for work. I had already seen you yesterday and I was wondering, since this is dangerous. And now again! Keep out of these buildings, Luisa! But I have to go now! See you next time!" Olga went outside and rushed to the taxi square, where she stepped into a taxi with a man. I kept behind, full of questions. How could the corpses in the villa were still be there? Are they not reported missing? Of course, there was a positive side to it. Presumably no one had seen anything suspicious in the area around the villa. In addition, the longer they remained there, the more blurred the traces of the crime and the better for me. But then I had to restrain my curiosity and henceforth stay away from that villa.
Back home, I made some order. Hiding the gun, get rid of the handbag, classify the documents. That briefcase of that officer too. I put all the documents that I had, there back into it. And I wondered what had made Judith so upset in those Russian papers. And speaking about Russians, what did Olga do near that villa always? It was time that we would come together all five again and discuss everything openly.
First I would again talk to Smyrna. But she was still not home yet. Even worse, I heard from a neighbor that she had become ill. The doctor had said it could be food poisoning, and she probably should remain at least a night in the hospital for observation. I took the rest of the Madeira wine back to my studio. What else could I do? The solitude began to weigh. Tomorrow Pavlos was already two weeks gone, and he still he gave no sign of life. I started really believing that he was one of those, that had been crucified in Brol, for espionage. I tried to imagine, though I had never been in Brol. On the basis of pictures I figured a row naked crucified, including Pavlos. Twisting of pain, dying a slow death. They would have done it along the quays, or on the promenade, facing the beach with all those parasols neatly in line? Unbelievable, that I would never see him again. And then my girlfriends, who were behaving strange. What was going on with everyone? To fight my illness, my stress and the memory of the stench in the villa, I drank the other half of that Madeira wine on my own.
(to be continued)
I felt terrible to go to work that day. That headache! The painful burn on my hand, reminded me that it had not been a dream that I had shot and killed four soldiers. It had really happened, the evening before. I could not think of anything else!
I was barely at work (or tried to do so with that terrible headache), as I got a phone call.
“Luisa, someone wants to talk to you, at the reception desk!”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know! A French army officer.”
“What!? Again!?”
I went down to the reception desk, very worried. Had they found the bodies already?
But it was not Lieutenant d’Artois, but a Captain named Ramoz.
“Mademoiselle Schneider, may I have a word with you?”
“About what, Captain?”
“Just a few questions, Mademoiselle!”
“About what, Captain?”
“About you, Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle Schneider, I am from the Deuxième Bureau of the French forces on the island. That means, we are in charge of the intelligence and security of our troops here. I have been given the order to contact all resident subjects of the King of France.”
We took place on a bench in the courtyard of the palace. The captain took a notebook and a pen. First, he demanded to see my passport. For a minute or so, he studied it thoroughly. Anxiously, I waited. Should he notice it was forged?”
“It is an old model, clearly! It is no longer valid for returning to France!”
“I know, Captain!”
“So, you are Luisa Schneider, born in Saverne, France?”
“That’s right, Captain!”
“I notice, you work here in the administration of the Government, which is rather unusual for foreigners. You have some qualification for the job, I presume!? An academic degree?”
“Yes, Captain, in State Governance.”
“Obtained where, Mademoiselle?”
“In Paris, at the Sorbonne!”
“The Sorbonne? Not bad! A top university! You must be a good one!”
“Thank you!”
“What is the name of your father, Mademoiselle?”
His question surprised me completely. Two or three seconds I had to think a way out.
“Well…. Schneider, I guess…”
“You guess, Mademoiselle. You don’t know your father’s name. What was his job?”
“Something… something in the administration of Saverne..”
“A civil servant? A clerk?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Lucky you, Mademoiselle, a daughter of a simple Alsacian clerk goes to an expensive and exclusive university as the Sorbonne!?”
“As you say, Captain, one has to have luck! But Captain, I must tell you this! In case you would think so, I was not a member of an Alsacian separatist movement or of groups that wanted the area go back to the Holy Roman Empire! I was raised as a good French girl, in case some of you might suspect me of non-French allegiances!” I figured, counter-attack was now the best option to talk me out of this muddle of lies I was sinking in.
“Then Mademoiselle Schneider, why are you hiding – because that is what you are doing here – on Chaos? What made you leave France?”
“I… had read Montesquieu! And I dreamed of getting his ideas in practice!”
“Ideas about what, Mademoiselle?”
“About state government derived from a social contact between the authorities and the people. Of separation of legislative, executive and judicial power. About… well basically about democracy and power deriving from the will of the people!”
“Democracy! The will of the people! I tell you, Mademoiselle Schneider, these thoughts are beautiful ideals, but in practice, they simply do not work! What we need is law and order, derived from a strong kinghood! That keeps the social order and cohesion of a country upright. Separation of powers? Ridiculous! Imagine, where would we end up if the king would no longer be allowed guide a judge’s verdict? Or declare laws? I tell you this, Mademoiselle! Democracy is the shortest way to lead a strong and powerful nation into ruin and anarchy!”
“I think different, Captain!”
“You will not go far with those dangerous ideas in France, Mademoiselle! You risk to get garroted for the simple possession of a book of Montesquieu! He may have been an idealist, but for practical application, all he wrote was bullshit! Yet, even bullshit can bring people to bad ideas! But I have another question!” as he showed up a photograph. “Do you know this man?”
Surprised, I looked at the picture. Sure I knew him, but one lie more or less did not matter anymore. So I denied to know him. After all, it had been some many years since I had seen him the last time!
After work, I went to see Smyrna, but she was too ill to get up. She had less trouble with nausea, but now she was wrecked and caught up sleep. I went to my studio, but I promised her to come back.
I was glad that I got there. I had walked from Smyrna to my studio made with heavy legs. I was sweating like a horse. Underway, I feared by moments that I would have to sit down, otherwise I would have fainted. But the content that I carried with me was too implicating. It surprised me that there had been no control underway. Or they had the killing not yet been discovered? Was the French army not yet missing an officer yet?
When I finally had arrived in my studio, I dropped on my bed. It felt just like I would faint, so dizzy I was. After an hour are I stood up and I took a shower. It refreshed a little bit, and I tried to get order in my thoughts. That gun. I had to get rid of it? Sooner or later they would that find the corpses in the villa anyway? There were lots of traces leading to me or Smyrna?
With just a bathrobe, I began to search everything. First the gun. I would keep for the time being. There was still one bullet left. This could still be useful? If necessary, one to blow myself through my head.
On the other hand, my handbag, the expensive handbag from Laibach, the one that had cost two months wages of an average Illyrian worker, remember, was a ‘total loss’. I would better get rid of it. There was a big hole in the bottom, and around it was all frayed and scorched. No doubt, fibers had spread around during the first shot and they were now all around in the room in the villa. Had I better thrown it away immediately, because the damaged fibers were spread everywhere now : in the villa, at Smyrna’s, and here with me. And considering the age and exclusivity of the handbag, it was probably quite unique on the island. But on the other hand, I had to also consider fingerprints. So, better not throw it away, but try to destroy it. Unseen, thoroughly and as quickly as possible. But without being spotted. I had probably made too many mistakes for the perfect crime, but I had to save what could be saved. Only the time was now my ally.
There was something strange with the handbag? The smell of amaretto! That smell had been in the room of the villa too, after the firing! Had there been amaretto? I had only seen wine!
Despite my headache, I tried to study the documents further. The French officer was first lieutenant Christian Ravaneaux. He belonged to the same unit as Robert d’Artois. Thirty-two years old. And now 'mort pour la patrie'. How would they explain it at home? Would they reveal to his relatives the real circumstances of his death? Probably not .
The Russian passports I could not read. Although the Cyrillic alphabet showed some similarities with the Greek, that I had in the meantime under control, the Russian language was too difficult for me. Maybe Olga could help? But could I still trust Olga? Too bad for her, if she would be innocent, but I would try a Russian-French dictionary.
Then there was that document on the radio interception station of Aghia Appolonia. Not really burdensome, but still suspicious. The loss of Aghia Appolonia would put the troops of the Holy Roman Empire and its allies completely deaf and blind. Problem: the station was officially run on behalf of the knight order, hood, and was manned by soldiers of the Empire. That stood, in a treaty that the King of France had signed. France could not just take over the station, without serious diplomatic consequences. But a takeover by a 'third party , in which the French would then supposedly ‘come to help’, that looked like a plausible scenario. And if the French were in control, the Russians might share the information. Would they dare to play such a high game, and would the Hellenic Dawn have itself implicated in it?
There was a knock on the door.
"Luisa? It's me, Judith!"
Even before I got the chance to say 'yes', Judith was inside. I just got the time to hide the gun under my pillow, but the rest of the stuff lay open and exposed. I tried to conceal the damaged handbag under my bed.
"Is everything all right, Luisa? Are you sick?"
"A bit, Yes. Some headache. Migraine, I think. "
"What's happened with your hand?"
"Burned,… er, during cooking."
"I did not know you liked cooking?"
"I still don’t, and that's why I have burned my hand!"
"And what’s that weird smell? It seems like.. almonds or something?"
"Maybe!" (so far the 'perfect crime').
"And those papers? Where did you get that from?" She took a sheet with Russian text and started to read it. Her look got serious, very serious.
"Oh dear!" she said, "Oh dear!"
"Is something wrong?"
"I already thought something was at hand!" she said.
"Aghia Appolonia?" I asked.
"Aghia Appolonia! Where did you find that?”
"That's quite a story."
"Tell me later but. You did a great job!"
"But Judith, what's going on?"
"Ottoman troops have invaded Mesopotamia! The English army is on the run. The fall of Baghdad is a matter of one or two days."
"The troops of the Sultan, in Mesopotamia, but....?"
"With the approval of the Tsar! But I must now urgently go! Can I take these with me?"
"Oui! Bien oui!"
"Thanks a lot!" And she went out, leaving me with more questions than before.
(I did not know Judith could read Russian).
I opened that shattered handbag again. Inside, it was completely destroyed and blackened. In a side pocket, I found partly burnt accounts from a café in Laibach, and the ticket of the purchase of the handbag itself. I remembered vaguely the cloud of paper and fiber that was thrown around at the first shot in the room of the villa. Then I noticed something glittering. Numerous small parts of glass. I found a half burned little cardboard box! Then I knew it! The cyanide capsule, which Lisa had given me in Laibach! That smell of amaretto that was almond smell, typical of cyanide. Completely forgotten! That capsule was likely fragmented by that first shot! The content must have been evaporated in the ambient air. Smyrna, who’s head had been straight under the gun’s barrel, must have inhaled it. So had I, but my head had not been under the evaporating cloud! But either Smyrna and me must have inhaled more than enough of it to get terribly sick and get a splitting headache!
I had to do something. I had to go to Smyrna. Along the way I would buy a bottle of Madeira wine, as an antidote. Combat a hangover with a hangover, if necessary. I fumbled the paper together. That gun. What to do? It could be dangerous on the streets. But even more dangerous would it be if I would be stopped by a patrol. Probably, the complete French garrison was looking for the murderer of their Lieutenant. Leave it here?
I went to the shop where Maryszkà worked and bought a bottle of Madeira wine. Maryszkà, however, was still nowhere around and no one knew where she was at that time. Underway I considered I had to tell Smyrna about the cyanide. She had the right to know. At least, since she now knew I had a weapon and a suspicious past!
But Smyrna was curiously enough not at home. I had no clue where she was. I waited half an hour, and when she still did not show up, I drank half the Madeira wine myself, and let the bottle behind, with a note: 'drink this, till the bottle is empty! Don't ask questions, explanation follows later. (signed.) Luisa ' When I left (a little tipsy in my head), I looked around if Smyrna was not coming. I saw her nowhere, but then I saw ... Olga? Or had I mistaken? I started to see ghosts, with my head full of cyanide and Madeira wine?
The Madeira wine had only worsened my headache. I returned to my studio and went straight to bed, hiding under a pillow to foreclosure all light. I was still not quite all right, I still felt terrible, actually. But I was restless too. I wanted to rest but I needed fresh air. I went back to Smyrna, but she was still not there. However, there was nothing indicating that there had been police around. I intended to return home once more. But then I got another idea. That Captain Ramoz! Was his interrogation just a coincidence, or had he been playing with me? I just had the time before dark to check out something! Through the Saint Paul’s Gate I went to the taxi square. The neighborhood where I had seen Olga last evening. And, on the other hand, near the place where ... Well, they say that every criminal returns to the scene of his crime, right?
Actually I was too sick to walk! Every footstep felt like walking steep uphill and caused a painful drumbeat in my head! I passed the city gate undisturbed. I hung around briefly on the taxi square. It was about a day ago that I had seen Olga here. She was nowhere around.
Then I stood again in front of the villa. If this had been a place of a crime, then it was quiet here. I looked around and entered the premises. Cautiously I opened the side door.
I didn't have to wait long. Already in the entrance a terrible smell hang around. There were insects! No crickets but big flies. There must have been thousands of them! I carefully pushed the door of the room, just enough to spot a pair of boots with content, lying on the floor. I knew now the bodies were still there! I had nothing more to look for, I had to go as soon as possible, otherwise I would throw up from the stench! When I turned around, there was someone behind me! I screamed as hell!
“Olga!?” Olga had just entered the building.
"Luisa! What are you doing here?"
"Olga! You did scare me!"
"That I have noticed! But what are you doing here? In that abandoned villa? It is dangerous here!"
"I uh, ... I was just looking around, for… for interesting real estate. I do that kind of work, you know. But indeed, it is rather nasty here! Come, let us go!"
"That’s what I mean! And it stinks here!"
"Probably there is a cadaver of some death beast rotting there!. But what are you doing here then?"
In the meantime I tried to move her back to the exit.
"I ... I am around here for work. I had already seen you yesterday and I was wondering, since this is dangerous. And now again! Keep out of these buildings, Luisa! But I have to go now! See you next time!" Olga went outside and rushed to the taxi square, where she stepped into a taxi with a man. I kept behind, full of questions. How could the corpses in the villa were still be there? Are they not reported missing? Of course, there was a positive side to it. Presumably no one had seen anything suspicious in the area around the villa. In addition, the longer they remained there, the more blurred the traces of the crime and the better for me. But then I had to restrain my curiosity and henceforth stay away from that villa.
Back home, I made some order. Hiding the gun, get rid of the handbag, classify the documents. That briefcase of that officer too. I put all the documents that I had, there back into it. And I wondered what had made Judith so upset in those Russian papers. And speaking about Russians, what did Olga do near that villa always? It was time that we would come together all five again and discuss everything openly.
First I would again talk to Smyrna. But she was still not home yet. Even worse, I heard from a neighbor that she had become ill. The doctor had said it could be food poisoning, and she probably should remain at least a night in the hospital for observation. I took the rest of the Madeira wine back to my studio. What else could I do? The solitude began to weigh. Tomorrow Pavlos was already two weeks gone, and he still he gave no sign of life. I started really believing that he was one of those, that had been crucified in Brol, for espionage. I tried to imagine, though I had never been in Brol. On the basis of pictures I figured a row naked crucified, including Pavlos. Twisting of pain, dying a slow death. They would have done it along the quays, or on the promenade, facing the beach with all those parasols neatly in line? Unbelievable, that I would never see him again. And then my girlfriends, who were behaving strange. What was going on with everyone? To fight my illness, my stress and the memory of the stench in the villa, I drank the other half of that Madeira wine on my own.
(to be continued)
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 - Episode 26
I had to get up pretty early the next day. I had to travel with my chef to Kathalos, for a meeting with the local department of the governorate. We had to go by boat because the roads were closed 'for security reasons' in some places, officially because of straggling ‘rioters’ (whoever they were). The boat line to Kathalos was a widely used, reliable and fast connection, with a catamaran ferry, which took barely an hour. I went to the Government Palace to meet my chef. Together we went to the port. The security control was strict. First when entering the port area itself. The,n the passengers were escorted to the ferry which was moored in the yachting port because the main port was still closed. Finally there was another control when boarding. But the boat departed on time (that punctuality on Chaos had always struck me).
The sun came up over the sea and lit up the coast of Chaos. On the other side of our boat drew the dark silhouette of Gyros against the rising sun. We sailed along the city, then along a cape, and then along a coastal village. A little later we passed along 'my mountain'. Its steep dark gray slopes rose hundreds of feet straight out of the sea, up to its flat upper surface. A large horizontal scar high above the water indicated where once two infamous Ottoman guns had stood. They controlled the strategic passage between Gyros and Chaos. In 1898 they have blown up, with the entire garrison. There are stories about a valiant raid of a French troops on the fortress during the war against the Ottomans, but it is more likely that neglect of safety has been at the origin of the explosion. Ottoman soldiers seemed to be used to smoke inside the fortress, even in the powder magazines.
We had taken seats in the covered cabin of the ferry. Most passengers had chosen to sit on the deck, so it was pretty quiet inside the cabin. My chef studied his documents. I had read our preparatory notes before, and I tried to reread a few, but I was getting distracted by the beautiful sunrise and the coast. It was intended that he would take the word on the meeting after all, and I would listen and report.
Except for the strict controls in the port, nothing seemed to indicate that there was a crisis in the region. From a distance I saw the coastal villages looking very peacefully, although they were known to be hotspots of ethnic tension the last days. Peaceful from a distance, maybe. We passed along a village where only a white stump recalled the minaret that had stood there until recently.
Someone had left behind a newspaper, I browsed through the headings. The coverage of the crisis was vague and incomplete.
"The last pockets of the rebellion in Paris are knocked down. Also in Lisbon, Madrid and Barcelona, order is restored."
"Poland supports the blockade of the Kattegat by the Empire’s navy. Sweden and the Baltic States protest. The HRE was putting the Baltic States under pressure to cooperate, in the interest of their own safety. ...! "
"Riots in Copenhagen, and in some cities on Jutland. Lutheran protestors demand religious freedom. The Emperor accuses the King of Sweden to be behind the riots. ..!"
I was about to get some fresh air and went on deck. We sailed along another cape. Soon we would reach the Bay of Kathalos. I was the whole time very vigilant. Those soldiers I had shot dead? Sooner or later they would be discovered anyway? Or had they been discovered and were they just chasing me? The strict controls in the port had worried me. Luckily I had learned in Illyria how me to behave as discrete as possible in a situation of such a control, and in the meantime, however, to keep a close eye on everything.
“Luisa?”
Olga suddenly stood beside me.
"Olga? What are you doing here?"
"I'm going to Kathalos! I have work in the port there! I got sacked in Chaos, because of the closure of the port there, remember?"
"Ah!? I'm happy for you! You have no problems with...?"
"The security in Kathalos is not as strict as in Chaos. There are no warships, you know. A local ship-owner found my experience interesting, including my knowledge of Russian. So he has hired me. The port of Kathalos is doing well, with the problems in Chaos city!"
"I know! But it is difficult to bring the goods from there to Chaos City! I will have a meeting about it. In any case, I'm glad you found something! "
Olga had invited me to stay with her that evening.
She told me that the evenings she had seen me around the taxi square, she was working for the job application. She admitted that she had behaved a little bit mysterious, because she urgently needed that job, and therefore she did not want to talk about it, to avoid competition. A little selfish, she admitted, but I understood her, and I told her that she would have had no competition from me. After a few glasses of wine, she admitted that her new boss had also requested a few evenings of sex with him, in exchange for a work contract.
Olga also told me she had heard that during the day, a French army officer had been assassinated in Chaos City. A French army officer? Assassinated? During which day? Was Olga well informed? Was it a rumor, or a deliberately set up decoy? Was it fake news to confuse the perpetrators? I tried to conceal my worries.
The next morning, when I arrived in the Governor’s Palace, there was a lot of news. A certain Colonel Mandrakos had seized power in Greece. The King was not deposed, but he was under house arrest and his power had been restricted. It was well known that Mandrakos was a sympathizer of the Hellenic Dawn. For that reason, he had been dismissed from a number of official appointments the last years. Mandrakos promised freedom and pride for Greece and the Greek people, and to liberate the country from the yoke of the Holy Roman Empire. He had asked for the support from the Tsar, who had promptly promised to do so.
During this morning, Ottoman troops had landed on Cyprus. Officially it was said that they were there to protect the Muslim population on the island, which was the victim of increasing aggression. The Sultan has already stressed that he has absolutely no intention to conquer Cyprus, but he claimed control over a part of the island to protect Muslims living there. There were reports of fighting with the Cypriot army. The Sultan also accused England there that it supported the oppression of the Muslims on Cyprus. The English garrison on the island had been captured, and the Sultan also reportedly would seize two English battleships in the port of Kyrenia.
We were still discussing the news, when there was tumult below. A group of French soldiers came up the stairs, under the leadership of the inevitable Lieutenant d'Artois. He claimed to have a search warrant, and a mandate to keep everyone in the building if necessary. He ignored all protest about the legitimate character of his action. They started to search the offices once again. Was this the prelude of the final takeover of power on Chaos?
(to be continued)
I had to get up pretty early the next day. I had to travel with my chef to Kathalos, for a meeting with the local department of the governorate. We had to go by boat because the roads were closed 'for security reasons' in some places, officially because of straggling ‘rioters’ (whoever they were). The boat line to Kathalos was a widely used, reliable and fast connection, with a catamaran ferry, which took barely an hour. I went to the Government Palace to meet my chef. Together we went to the port. The security control was strict. First when entering the port area itself. The,n the passengers were escorted to the ferry which was moored in the yachting port because the main port was still closed. Finally there was another control when boarding. But the boat departed on time (that punctuality on Chaos had always struck me).
The sun came up over the sea and lit up the coast of Chaos. On the other side of our boat drew the dark silhouette of Gyros against the rising sun. We sailed along the city, then along a cape, and then along a coastal village. A little later we passed along 'my mountain'. Its steep dark gray slopes rose hundreds of feet straight out of the sea, up to its flat upper surface. A large horizontal scar high above the water indicated where once two infamous Ottoman guns had stood. They controlled the strategic passage between Gyros and Chaos. In 1898 they have blown up, with the entire garrison. There are stories about a valiant raid of a French troops on the fortress during the war against the Ottomans, but it is more likely that neglect of safety has been at the origin of the explosion. Ottoman soldiers seemed to be used to smoke inside the fortress, even in the powder magazines.
We had taken seats in the covered cabin of the ferry. Most passengers had chosen to sit on the deck, so it was pretty quiet inside the cabin. My chef studied his documents. I had read our preparatory notes before, and I tried to reread a few, but I was getting distracted by the beautiful sunrise and the coast. It was intended that he would take the word on the meeting after all, and I would listen and report.
Except for the strict controls in the port, nothing seemed to indicate that there was a crisis in the region. From a distance I saw the coastal villages looking very peacefully, although they were known to be hotspots of ethnic tension the last days. Peaceful from a distance, maybe. We passed along a village where only a white stump recalled the minaret that had stood there until recently.
Someone had left behind a newspaper, I browsed through the headings. The coverage of the crisis was vague and incomplete.
"The last pockets of the rebellion in Paris are knocked down. Also in Lisbon, Madrid and Barcelona, order is restored."
"Poland supports the blockade of the Kattegat by the Empire’s navy. Sweden and the Baltic States protest. The HRE was putting the Baltic States under pressure to cooperate, in the interest of their own safety. ...! "
"Riots in Copenhagen, and in some cities on Jutland. Lutheran protestors demand religious freedom. The Emperor accuses the King of Sweden to be behind the riots. ..!"
I was about to get some fresh air and went on deck. We sailed along another cape. Soon we would reach the Bay of Kathalos. I was the whole time very vigilant. Those soldiers I had shot dead? Sooner or later they would be discovered anyway? Or had they been discovered and were they just chasing me? The strict controls in the port had worried me. Luckily I had learned in Illyria how me to behave as discrete as possible in a situation of such a control, and in the meantime, however, to keep a close eye on everything.
“Luisa?”
Olga suddenly stood beside me.
"Olga? What are you doing here?"
"I'm going to Kathalos! I have work in the port there! I got sacked in Chaos, because of the closure of the port there, remember?"
"Ah!? I'm happy for you! You have no problems with...?"
"The security in Kathalos is not as strict as in Chaos. There are no warships, you know. A local ship-owner found my experience interesting, including my knowledge of Russian. So he has hired me. The port of Kathalos is doing well, with the problems in Chaos city!"
"I know! But it is difficult to bring the goods from there to Chaos City! I will have a meeting about it. In any case, I'm glad you found something! "
Olga had invited me to stay with her that evening.
She told me that the evenings she had seen me around the taxi square, she was working for the job application. She admitted that she had behaved a little bit mysterious, because she urgently needed that job, and therefore she did not want to talk about it, to avoid competition. A little selfish, she admitted, but I understood her, and I told her that she would have had no competition from me. After a few glasses of wine, she admitted that her new boss had also requested a few evenings of sex with him, in exchange for a work contract.
Olga also told me she had heard that during the day, a French army officer had been assassinated in Chaos City. A French army officer? Assassinated? During which day? Was Olga well informed? Was it a rumor, or a deliberately set up decoy? Was it fake news to confuse the perpetrators? I tried to conceal my worries.
The next morning, when I arrived in the Governor’s Palace, there was a lot of news. A certain Colonel Mandrakos had seized power in Greece. The King was not deposed, but he was under house arrest and his power had been restricted. It was well known that Mandrakos was a sympathizer of the Hellenic Dawn. For that reason, he had been dismissed from a number of official appointments the last years. Mandrakos promised freedom and pride for Greece and the Greek people, and to liberate the country from the yoke of the Holy Roman Empire. He had asked for the support from the Tsar, who had promptly promised to do so.
During this morning, Ottoman troops had landed on Cyprus. Officially it was said that they were there to protect the Muslim population on the island, which was the victim of increasing aggression. The Sultan has already stressed that he has absolutely no intention to conquer Cyprus, but he claimed control over a part of the island to protect Muslims living there. There were reports of fighting with the Cypriot army. The Sultan also accused England there that it supported the oppression of the Muslims on Cyprus. The English garrison on the island had been captured, and the Sultan also reportedly would seize two English battleships in the port of Kyrenia.
We were still discussing the news, when there was tumult below. A group of French soldiers came up the stairs, under the leadership of the inevitable Lieutenant d'Artois. He claimed to have a search warrant, and a mandate to keep everyone in the building if necessary. He ignored all protest about the legitimate character of his action. They started to search the offices once again. Was this the prelude of the final takeover of power on Chaos?
(to be continued)
toxidomaskjr
Magistrate
Finally I was able to follow this wonderful story. does anyone know why I haven't receive any alerts from this thread? is it because of the upgrading of the site?
The upgrade didn't affect my watched threads, but you should have been getting alerts
This story is a roller coaster but it's amazing!!
Excellent job Loxuru!
especially as you commented in early December
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I happens to me too, that alerts do not show up about threads I am following!
Anyway, I am reviewing the next episode on some details. I hope to post it this weekend!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 – Episode 27
Immediately after the soldiers had started their search in the offices, Lieutenant d’Artois turned to me.
“You! Come here!”
“What is wrong Lieutenant!?”
“We are looking for the murderer of a French officer!”
“So!?” I asked, trying to conceal my nervousness.
“Captain Ramoz! Have you seen him, or noticed something suspicious!?
“Captain Ramoz!? And you think I did it?”
“You know Captain Ramoz!?”
“He was here two days ago, to ask me some questions! No use to deny that, since several people have seen us together!”
“So he has been here two days ago!? What did he question about!?”
“About whom I was, and why I was on Chaos. Routine questions, it appeared to me.”
“Routine questions you call it?”
“Yes! Routine questions! When was he murdered?”
“Yesterday! Is that your business!?”
“It is! Since I have the feeling that you are suspecting me! Let me tell you, Lieutenant, yesterday I was on a meeting in Kathalos! The whole day! My boss and the local authorities can confirm that!”
“Nevertheless, I take you under arrest now!”
“On what ground, lieutenant?”
“Bring me to your studio! I want to search it!”
I had little choice. He took with three of his men. I let them in, and they started to search everything. After half an hour of searching they came to the conclusion that there was nothing to find.
"That excites you, Lieutenant d’Artois, searching through a woman’s underwear?" I asked him when he searched my wardrobe. It was clear what they were still looking for these data carriers. Nothing else. Apparently, I was not suspected of the murder of Captain Ramoz. He looked at me with a sigh while I stood defiantly, with my hands on my hips and my left leg standing forward.
“What is this!?” he asked.
“That’s a book, Lieutenant!”
“L’esprit des Lois!? Eighteenth century? From … Charles de Montesquieu? Never heard of! What is it about?”
“It is a treatise about law and state governance.”
“Sounds boring to me!”
“Oh, Lieutenant, it really is, but sometimes one has to study the sources of things, in order to understand what we do today. By the way, it is not mine, I borrowed it!”
“Bien!” he said, while browsing it.
“Nothing, lieutenant.” One of his men reported.
He looked around. Clearly more than a bit annoyed.
“Return to the Governor’s Palace! I will come behind, but first I will ask her some more questions!”
“At your orders, lieutenant!”
“Well, Lieutenant, ask your questions?” I said, when his men had left.
“Have you seen this man?” he showed a photograph of a French officer.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It is Lieutenant Ravaneaux! He is missing since three days!”
“Maybe he has quit, realizing the dirty affairs his army and his country are implicated!” I answered, pretending to be fully ignorant.
“An officer of the King never deserts!” he said, irritated.
“And why do you ask me?”
“We know there are women like you, seducing officers. Maybe you have seen him…”
“So, lieutenant, you are once again questioning my honour?“
“I get cautious when Alsaciennes talk honour! They pretend to be good French, but they align to the Germans!”
“Can I ask you something, lieutenant!”
“What? About my date of birth again? I told you I do not…”
“No, it is about a rumour that some people, including inhabitants from Chaos, have been crucified recently at Brol. A friend of mine has left two weeks ago to Brol for business, and he got blocked when the port was closed. I have not heard anything from him since!.”
“It is the first time I hear about this. Was it a close friend of yours?”
“He was… he was my friend, do you understand?”
“I understand, but I know nothing! It is something they would better do here also! Crucify a few traitors! Good for law, order and discipline! The Ottomans take care no one messes with them! I like that!”
“But will you ask!?” I said, disgusted by his opinion.
“I said I cannot do anything! Is that clear!? Do not dare giving me orders!”
“Damn, man! You can! You can ask your Russian friends! They were at Brol when it happened! Maybe you can ask yourself then in what dirty affair your army got involved!”
“Listen, you! Here are no Russians, understand!?”
“That it is a lie! There are Russian soldiers concealed on this island! And Ottomans too! You French work together with them!”
“Shut up, you, sale Alsacienne .. I will…” he said, while he angrily grabbed my arms firmly and pulled me towards himself.
“You will do what!? Ah, lieutenant! Is it that what you want!? Was this home search just a pretext to be alone with me!? Alone with the seductress of the officers of the King of France!? Did you want to belong to that exquisite group that once possessed me? Is it that what excites you!?”
“Ta gueule, toi!”
“Well, since my reputation in the French officer’s corpse is ruined anyway, why not?”
“Hein?”
I yanked my arms free – he had already lessened his grip – and I pulled my dress over my head. Then I unclipped my bra, and stood in front of him, my hands in my side.
“Ca te plaît déjà?”
He was speechless, but I saw that he was giving way. I took off his uniform jacket. He let it happen. I dropped it on the ground, carefully.
“Alors, Robert d’Artois, laisse-toi aller!” I was now clearly in charge. He grabbed me fully with his hands, pulled me against him, and tore my panties down.
“Ouiii, Robert, comme ça!”
He pushed me on my bed, jumped out of his pants and crept between my legs. He clearly was rock hard and totally excited. Just a little I played cat and mouse with him, to teach him that he first had to knock at the door and enter gently, as otherwise he should have come straight the way, hit and run. Only then I let him in. It felt clearly that it was not his first time, but that concerning some tenderness, he still had to learn a lot, the straight way he drew on.
But it did not care. I knew from experience that men, once they had started, they were actually occupied with their own pleasure in the first place, and usually had little attention for their partner. That was my chance. I had me laid down, in such a way that his uniform jacket would lie within my reach. With my right arm, I started looking for his military passport. And then I found it. Gently I pulled it out of his pocket between my index and middle finger. One moment yet, and I would be behind the biggest military secret of the Eastern Mediterranean Sea: his date of birth!
Then the door of my studio opened, and I saw the Maryszkà, surprised, look inside. I signaled with my arm that she was disturbing us, but so, I dropped the jacket with the passport. Maryszkà slipped out again, but to my annoyance, Robert’s jacket had dropped just out of reach of my arm. Meanwhile the locomotive on top of me came under full steam. He hadn't noticed the disturbance, but he grabbed me so tightly that I could no longer move and I so saw no more chance to the get the jacket again within my reach.
Discouraged by my failure, I gave myself. I was now so far with Robert that I would let him finish the ride. And while I surrendered to the situation, closing my eyes, awaiting the final, suddenly something strange happened. Suddenly I was no longer in my studio, but in a sumptuous room, illuminated by a delicious hot and crackling fire. I lay in a four-poster bed in silk sheets, and there was an orchestra, a coronation march…
And then I lay back in my bed in my studio and I heard myself screaming and moaning. Robert himself was also ready and was red-faced, again aware of the real world. He looked at me closely and said:
“Merde!”
I became aware of what I had done and I replied:
“Merde!”
Angered, he stood on and dressed, without saying a word.
“You think about the rumour of the crucifixions at Brol?” I reminded him.
“One day, you will end up at the cross!” he snagged me. “Pute alsacienne!” Then he went out.
I kept laying on my bed. Right! Alsacian whore! I had almost reached my goal, if Maryszkà had not entered at the wrong time. Incredible!! First she vanishes for days without a word and then she suddenly reappears, right at the wrong moment to disrupt a delicate military operation. All right, she could not know. Although she would have to learn to recognize some kind of sounds a bit better.
“Merde!” I cursed once more.
My whole body still trembled (Hey, I still had my shoes on). One thing was for sure. He had made me feel, something I remembered from long ago. Long ago, with Josip ...
Maryszkà came in. I was still naked on bed, with my legs open, but it didn't bother me.
"Am I disturbing you? It looked like you were having fun?"
"Maryszkà, it's not what you think...!"
"You don't have to justify yourself, I understand it very well... We all have some needs to satisfy from time to time. It’s nature…"
"It’s too complicated to explain, Maryszkà! Oh damned! What have I done!? I have all fucked it up now! Merde! Merde! Merde!"
“Luisa, please, calm down! I understand! These young, strong, macho officers, they are difficult to resist! Such things happen!”
“No, Maryszka, it is worse than that! Where was my mind when I…. Oh, how stupid of me!?”
“Luisa! Please! I will not tell Pavlos! I will tell no one! I promise you!”
“Yes, Pavlos! Poor man! I even wonder whether he is still alive!”
I took my clothes on again, and reluctantly, I went back to work. It was my responsibility to be there, in case the French had made trouble again at the office. The French soldiers had meanwhile left the Government, but they had left behind a mess. We had to clean up the rest of the day. Hopefully those searches were no tactics of the French to paralyze the working of the Government.
When I returned home, I first went along Smyrna. I had had, in a moment of anticipation, the brilliant idea to cover the gun in her place. Otherwise I could have been in trouble now. Smyrna was still not there, and I decided to take the weapon again to my studio. The danger had gone, and I would not risk to bring Smyrna in trouble herself.
Maryszkà had promised to come back in the evening. She explained that she had been just scared the last days and therefore she had fled to Kathalos. She apologized for not informing one of us, but the coming of the Russian ships had urged her to leave Chaos City.
(to be continued)
Immediately after the soldiers had started their search in the offices, Lieutenant d’Artois turned to me.
“You! Come here!”
“What is wrong Lieutenant!?”
“We are looking for the murderer of a French officer!”
“So!?” I asked, trying to conceal my nervousness.
“Captain Ramoz! Have you seen him, or noticed something suspicious!?
“Captain Ramoz!? And you think I did it?”
“You know Captain Ramoz!?”
“He was here two days ago, to ask me some questions! No use to deny that, since several people have seen us together!”
“So he has been here two days ago!? What did he question about!?”
“About whom I was, and why I was on Chaos. Routine questions, it appeared to me.”
“Routine questions you call it?”
“Yes! Routine questions! When was he murdered?”
“Yesterday! Is that your business!?”
“It is! Since I have the feeling that you are suspecting me! Let me tell you, Lieutenant, yesterday I was on a meeting in Kathalos! The whole day! My boss and the local authorities can confirm that!”
“Nevertheless, I take you under arrest now!”
“On what ground, lieutenant?”
“Bring me to your studio! I want to search it!”
I had little choice. He took with three of his men. I let them in, and they started to search everything. After half an hour of searching they came to the conclusion that there was nothing to find.
"That excites you, Lieutenant d’Artois, searching through a woman’s underwear?" I asked him when he searched my wardrobe. It was clear what they were still looking for these data carriers. Nothing else. Apparently, I was not suspected of the murder of Captain Ramoz. He looked at me with a sigh while I stood defiantly, with my hands on my hips and my left leg standing forward.
“What is this!?” he asked.
“That’s a book, Lieutenant!”
“L’esprit des Lois!? Eighteenth century? From … Charles de Montesquieu? Never heard of! What is it about?”
“It is a treatise about law and state governance.”
“Sounds boring to me!”
“Oh, Lieutenant, it really is, but sometimes one has to study the sources of things, in order to understand what we do today. By the way, it is not mine, I borrowed it!”
“Bien!” he said, while browsing it.
“Nothing, lieutenant.” One of his men reported.
He looked around. Clearly more than a bit annoyed.
“Return to the Governor’s Palace! I will come behind, but first I will ask her some more questions!”
“At your orders, lieutenant!”
“Well, Lieutenant, ask your questions?” I said, when his men had left.
“Have you seen this man?” he showed a photograph of a French officer.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It is Lieutenant Ravaneaux! He is missing since three days!”
“Maybe he has quit, realizing the dirty affairs his army and his country are implicated!” I answered, pretending to be fully ignorant.
“An officer of the King never deserts!” he said, irritated.
“And why do you ask me?”
“We know there are women like you, seducing officers. Maybe you have seen him…”
“So, lieutenant, you are once again questioning my honour?“
“I get cautious when Alsaciennes talk honour! They pretend to be good French, but they align to the Germans!”
“Can I ask you something, lieutenant!”
“What? About my date of birth again? I told you I do not…”
“No, it is about a rumour that some people, including inhabitants from Chaos, have been crucified recently at Brol. A friend of mine has left two weeks ago to Brol for business, and he got blocked when the port was closed. I have not heard anything from him since!.”
“It is the first time I hear about this. Was it a close friend of yours?”
“He was… he was my friend, do you understand?”
“I understand, but I know nothing! It is something they would better do here also! Crucify a few traitors! Good for law, order and discipline! The Ottomans take care no one messes with them! I like that!”
“But will you ask!?” I said, disgusted by his opinion.
“I said I cannot do anything! Is that clear!? Do not dare giving me orders!”
“Damn, man! You can! You can ask your Russian friends! They were at Brol when it happened! Maybe you can ask yourself then in what dirty affair your army got involved!”
“Listen, you! Here are no Russians, understand!?”
“That it is a lie! There are Russian soldiers concealed on this island! And Ottomans too! You French work together with them!”
“Shut up, you, sale Alsacienne .. I will…” he said, while he angrily grabbed my arms firmly and pulled me towards himself.
“You will do what!? Ah, lieutenant! Is it that what you want!? Was this home search just a pretext to be alone with me!? Alone with the seductress of the officers of the King of France!? Did you want to belong to that exquisite group that once possessed me? Is it that what excites you!?”
“Ta gueule, toi!”
“Well, since my reputation in the French officer’s corpse is ruined anyway, why not?”
“Hein?”
I yanked my arms free – he had already lessened his grip – and I pulled my dress over my head. Then I unclipped my bra, and stood in front of him, my hands in my side.
“Ca te plaît déjà?”
He was speechless, but I saw that he was giving way. I took off his uniform jacket. He let it happen. I dropped it on the ground, carefully.
“Alors, Robert d’Artois, laisse-toi aller!” I was now clearly in charge. He grabbed me fully with his hands, pulled me against him, and tore my panties down.
“Ouiii, Robert, comme ça!”
He pushed me on my bed, jumped out of his pants and crept between my legs. He clearly was rock hard and totally excited. Just a little I played cat and mouse with him, to teach him that he first had to knock at the door and enter gently, as otherwise he should have come straight the way, hit and run. Only then I let him in. It felt clearly that it was not his first time, but that concerning some tenderness, he still had to learn a lot, the straight way he drew on.
But it did not care. I knew from experience that men, once they had started, they were actually occupied with their own pleasure in the first place, and usually had little attention for their partner. That was my chance. I had me laid down, in such a way that his uniform jacket would lie within my reach. With my right arm, I started looking for his military passport. And then I found it. Gently I pulled it out of his pocket between my index and middle finger. One moment yet, and I would be behind the biggest military secret of the Eastern Mediterranean Sea: his date of birth!
Then the door of my studio opened, and I saw the Maryszkà, surprised, look inside. I signaled with my arm that she was disturbing us, but so, I dropped the jacket with the passport. Maryszkà slipped out again, but to my annoyance, Robert’s jacket had dropped just out of reach of my arm. Meanwhile the locomotive on top of me came under full steam. He hadn't noticed the disturbance, but he grabbed me so tightly that I could no longer move and I so saw no more chance to the get the jacket again within my reach.
Discouraged by my failure, I gave myself. I was now so far with Robert that I would let him finish the ride. And while I surrendered to the situation, closing my eyes, awaiting the final, suddenly something strange happened. Suddenly I was no longer in my studio, but in a sumptuous room, illuminated by a delicious hot and crackling fire. I lay in a four-poster bed in silk sheets, and there was an orchestra, a coronation march…
And then I lay back in my bed in my studio and I heard myself screaming and moaning. Robert himself was also ready and was red-faced, again aware of the real world. He looked at me closely and said:
“Merde!”
I became aware of what I had done and I replied:
“Merde!”
Angered, he stood on and dressed, without saying a word.
“You think about the rumour of the crucifixions at Brol?” I reminded him.
“One day, you will end up at the cross!” he snagged me. “Pute alsacienne!” Then he went out.
I kept laying on my bed. Right! Alsacian whore! I had almost reached my goal, if Maryszkà had not entered at the wrong time. Incredible!! First she vanishes for days without a word and then she suddenly reappears, right at the wrong moment to disrupt a delicate military operation. All right, she could not know. Although she would have to learn to recognize some kind of sounds a bit better.
“Merde!” I cursed once more.
My whole body still trembled (Hey, I still had my shoes on). One thing was for sure. He had made me feel, something I remembered from long ago. Long ago, with Josip ...
Maryszkà came in. I was still naked on bed, with my legs open, but it didn't bother me.
"Am I disturbing you? It looked like you were having fun?"
"Maryszkà, it's not what you think...!"
"You don't have to justify yourself, I understand it very well... We all have some needs to satisfy from time to time. It’s nature…"
"It’s too complicated to explain, Maryszkà! Oh damned! What have I done!? I have all fucked it up now! Merde! Merde! Merde!"
“Luisa, please, calm down! I understand! These young, strong, macho officers, they are difficult to resist! Such things happen!”
“No, Maryszka, it is worse than that! Where was my mind when I…. Oh, how stupid of me!?”
“Luisa! Please! I will not tell Pavlos! I will tell no one! I promise you!”
“Yes, Pavlos! Poor man! I even wonder whether he is still alive!”
I took my clothes on again, and reluctantly, I went back to work. It was my responsibility to be there, in case the French had made trouble again at the office. The French soldiers had meanwhile left the Government, but they had left behind a mess. We had to clean up the rest of the day. Hopefully those searches were no tactics of the French to paralyze the working of the Government.
When I returned home, I first went along Smyrna. I had had, in a moment of anticipation, the brilliant idea to cover the gun in her place. Otherwise I could have been in trouble now. Smyrna was still not there, and I decided to take the weapon again to my studio. The danger had gone, and I would not risk to bring Smyrna in trouble herself.
Maryszkà had promised to come back in the evening. She explained that she had been just scared the last days and therefore she had fled to Kathalos. She apologized for not informing one of us, but the coming of the Russian ships had urged her to leave Chaos City.
(to be continued)
What is it about this thread and alerts?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Part 3 – episode 28
The next morning I woke up by a knocking and pounding on the door of my studio. Maryszkà and I had drunk a bottle of white wine before going to sleep and then we lay naked next to each other. It needed more than what knocking on the door to wake us up. Knocking went on a minute long. Then I decided that it had been enough. I pulled my arms from around Maryszkà and stood up to find some clothes. But I got no time. Outside, they suddenly found out that the door of my studio was open, and police and army stormed inside. Maryszkà and I were dragged out of the bed and we had to lay on the floor with our hands in our neck. My studio was searched.
"Stand up! Hands in the neck!" Then they rudely and shamelessly searched all our body cavities. "Look here!" One of the policemen had found an old, ripped apart handbag. And under that handbag was a gun.
"Take it for investigation!"
The policeman was holding the weapon within my reach. In a whip I took a decision, one that officer was not prepared for. With a quick grasp, which I had learned in my training in Hungary, I tore it out of his hands. Even before he could do anything, I cocked it, released the safety and I put the barrel into my mouth. Around me, all movements seemed to slow down, as all the squad members looked alarmed into my direction. I saw them try to stop me, but I also saw, and I saw it to their looks that they realized, they would come too late ...
‘Click!’
Nothing happened. And now it was my turn to be overtaken. With brute force they fell on me, and the next moment I lay flat on my stomach on the floor, with my body from my neck to my feet pressed against the floor by I don't know how many knees and hands. My arms were brutally forced behind my back and they were cuffed. The gun had been taken to safety. I cried out of pain and of powerlessness. I saw that they also had thrown Maryszkà against the floor. I saw the pain in her eyes and I felt a little guilty. But above all I asked myself, why had the gun not fired? There was supposed to be one last bullet in it?
Eventually they stepped from us and we were pulled upright.
"Clothes on!" Maryszkà put her clothes on, which were next to the bed. But the night before I had taken off mine in my bathroom.
"Here! Take this one!" A policeman threw a dress from my closet to me.
"But that does not fit me anymore!
"Put on! Or we take you with naked!"
With great difficulty I forced myself into the blue dress with elongated ocher yellow, light green and grey spots (though the colors had become dull by hanging long years in the closet), the dress from Laibach. It did only fit when I pulled it high above my knees and I left the zipper partly open, and I only used the waist strap to tighten it. Still, I feared the fabric would tear at the least abrupt movement. When they handcuffed my hands on my back again, I really thought that it would rip apart around my breasts
Handcuffed on the back, with a bag over our head, we were taken through the narrow streets, to a car. They drove us away.
END OF PART THREE
(to be continued)
The next morning I woke up by a knocking and pounding on the door of my studio. Maryszkà and I had drunk a bottle of white wine before going to sleep and then we lay naked next to each other. It needed more than what knocking on the door to wake us up. Knocking went on a minute long. Then I decided that it had been enough. I pulled my arms from around Maryszkà and stood up to find some clothes. But I got no time. Outside, they suddenly found out that the door of my studio was open, and police and army stormed inside. Maryszkà and I were dragged out of the bed and we had to lay on the floor with our hands in our neck. My studio was searched.
"Stand up! Hands in the neck!" Then they rudely and shamelessly searched all our body cavities. "Look here!" One of the policemen had found an old, ripped apart handbag. And under that handbag was a gun.
"Take it for investigation!"
The policeman was holding the weapon within my reach. In a whip I took a decision, one that officer was not prepared for. With a quick grasp, which I had learned in my training in Hungary, I tore it out of his hands. Even before he could do anything, I cocked it, released the safety and I put the barrel into my mouth. Around me, all movements seemed to slow down, as all the squad members looked alarmed into my direction. I saw them try to stop me, but I also saw, and I saw it to their looks that they realized, they would come too late ...
‘Click!’
Nothing happened. And now it was my turn to be overtaken. With brute force they fell on me, and the next moment I lay flat on my stomach on the floor, with my body from my neck to my feet pressed against the floor by I don't know how many knees and hands. My arms were brutally forced behind my back and they were cuffed. The gun had been taken to safety. I cried out of pain and of powerlessness. I saw that they also had thrown Maryszkà against the floor. I saw the pain in her eyes and I felt a little guilty. But above all I asked myself, why had the gun not fired? There was supposed to be one last bullet in it?
Eventually they stepped from us and we were pulled upright.
"Clothes on!" Maryszkà put her clothes on, which were next to the bed. But the night before I had taken off mine in my bathroom.
"Here! Take this one!" A policeman threw a dress from my closet to me.
"But that does not fit me anymore!
"Put on! Or we take you with naked!"
With great difficulty I forced myself into the blue dress with elongated ocher yellow, light green and grey spots (though the colors had become dull by hanging long years in the closet), the dress from Laibach. It did only fit when I pulled it high above my knees and I left the zipper partly open, and I only used the waist strap to tighten it. Still, I feared the fabric would tear at the least abrupt movement. When they handcuffed my hands on my back again, I really thought that it would rip apart around my breasts
Handcuffed on the back, with a bag over our head, we were taken through the narrow streets, to a car. They drove us away.
END OF PART THREE
(to be continued)